BLOOD MOON II

The blood moon waxed and waned,
crimson, alive, in the storm-weary sky,
now radiant as a deathly wound, 
erelong paling to dry, empty greyness,
as florid flames fluttered amid 
crumbling rock bleeding wet shadows
and sibilant spouts.

All eyes save yours gazed upon a cold,
red Goddess; red moon, red earth, 
red fire, red-gold leaves, your broken red 
life-thread twisted around the tangled
dark in my throat - a fitting reliquary for
your words unspoken and tears unshed.

Our debts are paid, sister, in part; your blood
no longer stains my dreams; red candles, 
red moon, repel me no more.
The red ground yet singes my skin, 
red reproach rags my tongue.

I yearn to know your peace in white spaces,
infinitesimal, yet infinite, upon a propitious
blood moon, where twilight meets the waters, 
where breezes graze the leaves, 
where music skims the silence.

Upon that sacred Night shall I recommence
Her worship, cleansed of the red that taints
my spirit, our souls' burden a fading memory
of direful bygone blood moons.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: lunareclipse2015.com