Grandmother Moon cherishes me,
kisses my forehead with her light.
She reigns supreme over her kingdom,
smiling down upon this humble spirit.
I whisper to her of my dreams, hopes
prevailing in spite of the odds.
A tear forms in the corner of my eye
as I challenge her to answer my prayers.
I extend my hand, longing to touch her,
to soak up her ancient wisdom and beauty.
I can feel her gentle smile, she embraces me,
bringing me comfort, her radiance guiding.
She has been witness to the cruelties
of man, more than I could ever imagine.
Broken dreams scattered into the night
her children gather around her, wink at me.
Nissa, Nissa, I cry out to her. Is all lost?
Is there no more hope for my people?
A voice softly answers in my mind,
there is always a glimmer of hope.
Grandmother Moon watches over me,
ruling the tides of my heart, my spirit.
She is listening to me, tasting my tears,
caressing the delicate tendrils of my soul.
Copyright © Pamela Davison | Year Posted 2005