One solitary woman
Stands under the moon’s half-light.
She cries for her people:
The false laughter of the sun people,
Masks shown to the world at large.
She breaks into a wild laughter,
Free of all inhibitions,
Filled with the knowledge of her strength.
From the shadows, a hand reaches out
And clasps her own.
Two spirits freed from their chains,
Roaring with joy,
In the presence of Diana, the moon-goddess.
Soon, the night is filled with the sounds of freedom,
Echoing through the hills,
Across the not-so-barren deserts,
Into the hearts of the Appollonian priests.
They fear the savage sounds
Of the night, for the laughter
Is the double-edged labrys,
Cutting the chains that keep us from ourselves.
They don’t want to be freed,
For the night hides day-masks and
Forces the inward eye to look at the Self.
…. A link is severed and
The Appollonian forgers try to repair
The broken chain,
But the labrys is wielded by the
Divine Spirit of Living–
And the priests cannot win.
The laughter gains force, even among
The day-people, for they are finding
The Moon-force in their souls.
The One Solitary Woman
Looks on the day,
And is pleased.
(written circa 1984)