Moon Mother

Epona by Helena Nelson-Reed

On the plains of Colorado, I wasn't always that happy, but the night sky was a constant wonder. There was little light pollution and a wide open vista in all directions. Not many clouds, either. The milky way was right there waiting for you when you went outdoors at night, especially in the darker part of the lunar cycle. I remember a period when the light from venus was keeping me awake at night, even with the curtains closed!

And the moon. Well. She was a constant companion, often day and night. I would often see her setting at sunrise, or vice versa, or just a partial white moon hanging in the blue sky. Astounding us with her brilliant rise, when she was full - and often making the interior of the house so bright at night that I would simply give up on having a dark bedroom and just open the curtains. If there was snow, the reflected light was a gorgeous shade of blue. Sometimes it was hard to know what to do with such an enormous flow of energy. On the day of the full moon I always swept the area of the barn where my shrine to Epona was, and at night I would light a candle and incense, and sit with the door open and the moonlight streaming in. If I was feeling down, the event might be a bit lacklustre, but I kept the practice, anyway.

When I finally made it to my new house here in Oregon, I was taken aback by all the lights around me at night. People leave their porch lights on all night, some of them, and then there's the street lights. The house has venitian blinds, which I'm slowly replacing with curtains. I would awake, with little sense of direction, see a glimmer of light through the slats, or sense that the house wasn't very dark, and think, "The moon!" I'd look out the window. Of course it wasn't the moon, just a light. Then I began to think about just how impeded my view of the sky is here. The east side of my house has an overhanging carport and deck cover. the west looks mostly at the walls of my neighbour's house. The town sits in a bit of a bowl surrounded by mountains and tall, thick forest. And it's cloudy.

I love those clouds. In Colorado I missed the clouds and the rain, and a number of other things that I am glad to have where I live now. But I miss the moon. I miss her terribly.

The Moon's Wean

Mama?
Is that you?
Oh ... no.
Mama!
No, not this time, either.

Maybe if I go outside
I will see her
Sometimes I do
Sometimes a little
Through the window, too.

She doesn't live here anymore

Last night
I saw her
Beautiful silver sliver
Which would soon descend behind a roof

I leaned against the window frame
And rocked myself
Mama ...
Mama!

         - Kris Hughes