Poetry, Photography
The Wolf Moon
A Goddess poem
When I see that navel, fully bathed in the glow of the sun, yet shrouded in the depths of darkness, pregnant in the sky,
I can’t help but wonder about the smooth expanse of flesh, so close, and yet uncratered by the fists of time.
The other cheek. Another profile.
And how the forces collide. Impermanence and the scars of now.
The breath of the wolf, hot on my neck. I can almost feel the tips of his teeth against my jugular.
Her womb still pulses. And her child, the very night, begins to solidify, teething upon the stars. Alive for such a short time, before he begins to die.
A drop of blood. A bite of pain. So brief.
She screams with life. But also knows the utter defeat of death.
Breath and darkness.
Vacuum and light.
United in the growl of the full wolf moon.
Inspired by J.D. Harms’ “Derailed by Stars” prompt in Scrittura.
Last night was the “Wolf Moon,” or the first full moon of 2022, named for the wolves howling to the light of full moon upon the breast of the snow.
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).
I hope you enjoyed my photos and musings. You might also like:
Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.
