My husband and I sat outside for the first part of last night’s eclipse, discussing the science of the eclipse as the moon was gradually occluded. When full shadow fell, he went inside, but I stayed out. Clouds swept in and I dozed off briefly.
When I awoke, I could no longer call the moon “it”.
Both she and I had been changed.
She was just starting to brighten along her forward curve, and I tweeted my thoughts as I sat with her for the remaining hours of our eclipse vigil.
It was no longer science I was interested in.
Lying outside, sleeping bag and the dog, keeping her company
as she moves through her dark time.
Her wisdom is moon-bright, and my vigil for my moon-sister is steady.
I doze, the clouds pass by, they clear and I awake.
Through the binoculars she glows orange.
When the full shadow drew her into instinct and
into the waiting time, for a moment I saw her face wail.
Yes, the dark time is not easy.
But she knows what she is doing, the wisdom of her cycle pulls her through.
As the light edge on the far side of change began to glow,
I saw her face with a knowing smile. One eyebrow raised.
The brightness of her gaze a few hours ago was stunning.
Now she winks a sliver of light in the dark velvet sky.
My sister, my sistermoon.
More visible in the West than anywhere else on the broad lap of the Mother.
I nod. “The world will be saved by Western women,” he said.
My vigil for her, her vigil for us.
The clouds come over, hide her light.
She and I wait, partners in darkness.
The clouds pass and she laughs with light.
Her dark belly glows with her own rebirth.
Off Orion’s shoulder she has ridden the night.
My dog beside me, the Dog Star beside him, her canine honor guard.
Her laughter glows through the clouds.
Her light cannot be dowsed.
The lessons of her dark transformation ride in her wake.
She knows, as do I, what the pull of darkness means.
We both trust in the vigil, we both trust in time.
Her brightness will illumine again the quiet field, the dog, and I,
but for now she still winks a crescent of knowing.
My sister, my sistermoon and I
Her dawning light, hours before the sun will join her,
leads the roosters into calling out.
Welcome and welcome back, my sister.
She smiles at me and I smile at her. We both know the lessons of darkness.
The color of her light is clear-white again.
The weirding power of her orange glow is completed.
She and I won’t forget the lessons revealed by
the muted orange glow,
my sister, my sistermoon and I.
Earlier she seemed to swim upstream against
the flow of the clouds. Now she stands solid,
and the clouds pass her by.
Strong enough now to brighten the field, her roundness glows gibbous again.
Her dark lessons still whisper behind her in her wake,
as she returns to her role, undiminished.
The seas on her surface tell a tale dark and wise,
but the light of her blessing is clear.
Bright enough again to cast her own shadows,
she looks down, I look up, in acknowledgement.
The clouds that doubled her darkness before have passed.
The sky is now clear, as is she.
Still she holds a tiny sliver of darkness.
There’s a one-eighth share of death in everything, she says.
She will pass from this night, as will I, our shared vigil held fast in our hearts.
My sister, my sistermoon and I.
We will accompany each other through many nights to come.
Our shared vigil strong at our backs, we will know.
I am proud to stand sister with her. Eons older, yet newborn, she is kin.
All that remains is a trailing penumbral smudge.
I will wait till all shadow has passed. She did no less for me.
Again the field glows preternaturally bright.
The dog’s white fur picks up her shine as Coyote salutes us from the woods.
Quiet and bright, full-round again.
My vigil for her is complete.
Goodnight friend, goodnight sister,
my sister,
sistermoon and I.