The Moon Cries Back

There is unity in the chaos
Though we see it not.
It is the invisible fiber of our skirts
Flowing out from legs standing in the field
Gathering cotton, or wheat, or corn.

We are the gatherers
We women of all time.
We are the singers and the players
Making staccato steps into history
And out again;

Leaping across dry beds of worn worry
Hoping to find waters to fill our need
As well as the earthenware pots
We balance on our heads
As our feet touch down on raw earth.

We walk lands of questions
While answers grow dust on our window sills.
And out of our community of pain
We wail our sorrows to the moon
And the moon cries back:

	The only unity is you
	The only chaos is you
	You, Woman, must come from the East
	You, Woman, must come from the South
	You, Woman, must come from the West
	You, Woman, must come from the North
	Come from Above
	From below
	And from In Between

	Gather yourselves on Sacred Ground
	Spread like the cotton
	Sway like the wheat
	Grow like the corn
	Weave the fiber that spans the Distance
	That makes you Whole
	That makes us One.


Mary Diane Hausman | Website Designed and Maintained by Web Design Relief