Poetry for the Esbat: Darkness Moon, 2016

Almost there, sister.
Waxing Moon, June 2016.

There are no words. No words to explain my delight in this Sky, this sprawling, Dark, Night, Sky...

Tonight I receive many, many messages & images from friends & my beloved. Tonight they are celebrating the Summer Solstice in that typically modern Pagan way -- on the most convenient weekend. They are also celebrating the Solstice Alaska-Style: in the endless daylight. 

Tonight, 

here in the yawning Desert,

under the sable cloak of Night,

I find myself not missing it.

Not at all.

Tonight, in the company of crickets, I photographed the Moon. But first, I sat on the porch of the house (the one that stole my heart so many years ago) & waited. It took awhile. She had been playing coy behind the clouds. It doesn't matter really. I am patient. Besides, the Darkness is enough for me. Had She never left Her coverlets, I still would have left satisfied. 

Yesterday, while washing dishes to avoid the heat, I was reflecting on the raw thrill of the Darkness; the vulnerability & the opening of the imagination which only being doused & disoriented by the Dark can introduce. So I was very pleased to recover this Esbat's poem from my lengthy favorites list on my phone's Poetry Foundation App (yes, I recognize this app thing is cliché) this evening. Things always seem to fall together just as they should, no?

I know there are a variety of rich & thoughtful literary interpretations for the following piece. But, I personally like to take it at face value -- with a very uncomplicated ear & heart. I like to think it's really just about the Darkness & being a goofy human, completely & hopelessly maladapted to nocturnal living & literally smacking your face into a tree. Then, perhaps, with practice, patience & some caution, finding your bat's wings. I find that interpretation most satisfying actually.

We grow accustomed to the Dark - (428) by Emily Dickinson

We grow accustomed to the Dark - 

When light is put away - 

As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp

To witness her Goodbye - 

A Moment - We uncertain step

For newness of the night - 

Then - fit our Vision to the Dark - 

And meet the Road - erect - 

And so of larger - Darknesses - 

Those Evenings of the Brain - 

When not a Moon disclose a sign - 

Or Star - come out - within - 

The Bravest - grope a little - 

And sometimes hit a Tree

Directly in the Forehead - 

But as they learn to see - 

Either the Darkness alters - 

Or something in the sight

Adjusts itself to Midnight - 

And Life steps almost straight. 

Blessings to you this Esbat, my friends.