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Poem

When the night claims you like a wayward leaf of old 
and it takes you to the caves where anything turns gold 
you don't ask any questions and you don't dare breathe 
you just follow her, like a light weight tumbled weed 

Down the passages of dark, down the staircase of rune 
every step a little deeper than the crevices of moon 
you can almost taste the air, on your tonguing clepe 
you can down the stars of heaven in one single leap

Taking you by the waist it shall dance you through
the elixir of happiness when your feeling down n' blue 
you just thank the Lord for the magic of this gift 
all you need is skin n' eyes to cross her lowly rift 

When night claims you like a wayward leaf of old 
and takes you to her caves, all etched with gold 
don't ask her any questions just go ahead breathe 
no, don't ask her anything at all, just breathe, 

yes breathe, swallow your hesitations, all your doubts, 
Find your deep longings to obtain your whereabouts, 
Feel the freedom in that offering and unwavering voice, 
Loud as trumpets, just motioning to you for your choice. 

So personable in its intolerance of pressing domination, 
You can finally sit rejoicing in its beauteous exhortation,
And reflect upon your position so forthright and blaring, 
That you consider to be compassion itself, and caring. 

It’s forever two-sided, both dark and in ways giving, 
Its relationality lies within its blackness most liberating,  
As it loves only you at that time, that moment of caress,
Encompassing all corners, the night so does embrace. 

Truly physical, yet so emotional, the night so tangles, 
With your entirety, your mind, body, and all your angles;
Reminding you of a good friend it celebrates your gifts, 
Extinguishing your terrors and frights, your fears it so lifts. 

Rhoda Monihan and Mystic Rose

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