|"M" from Dr. Seuss's ABC, by Dr. Seuss.|
...isn't all Harvest the result of some Mother, somewhere?
This month's Esbat poetry is based on sheer instinct. Or something. I won't be saying much about the Harvest Moon, despite an enormous harvest this year. I will save that for later. I won't be writing about Moon monikers either. I will save that for next year, perhaps. If you want something Autumnal & harvest-y, please take a peek at Poetry for the Esbat: Harvest Moon 2011. The poem, "Autumn Fires" by Robert Louis Stevenson is the bee's knees.
I am dedicating this piece to all the Mothers; your mother, my mother, our mother's mothers, all the mother goddesses, THE Mother (whomever that may be) & of course, Mama Moon. Someone told me this is how it should be this time & so it is.
This poetry is also for Susan, a mother of many, I suspect.
|Queen of Wands, by Luigi Scapini|
My habit is the Medieval Scapini Tarot, by Luigi Scapini. The deck is complex & rich with symbolism -- so much so that sometimes learning it seems like an insurmountable task. However, over the years I have come to think that anything worth attempting to know is probably ultimately unknowable. Thus, it is the ongoing discovery, the unfoldment, the connecting & weaving that really matters. I will never be done learning about this deck -- this satisfies me deeply. It is not unlike mothering, motherhood, mothers -- there is always, always a new lesson to be learned.
So we arrive at the poetry. Several weeks ago I finally purchased a book I had picked up many, many times. Why I never purchased it earlier is beyond me -- as my Little Lad astutely surmised, "This book is about very important things..." It is. I read it to him in bed sometimes & he is always rapt. The Changeling has taken a shine to it as well & has torn the entire book asunder. (Hence, the condition of the pages in the images below.) The book entitled, Household Tales of Moon & Water, & it is filled with the most poignant poems by Nancy Willard about mothering, home life, family, gardening, Water & of course, the Moon. This month's poem is in image form because I too am a mother & small yet thunderous voices are calling from underfoot. The Changeling-crinkled poem I present for this Esbat is the book's opening piece, Night Light.
Night Light, by Nancy Willard.
See more of Nancy Willard's work at the Poetry Foundation's website.
Blessings to you this Esbat, my friends.