Cétshamhain – Empress of Stone

There’s a female icon, a multiethnic idol,
with forlorn eyes, blind to love’s idyllic
reputation; faceless stone, heavy breasted,
holding a crescent moon in the washed out
plains of vivid greens, all over vast distances.

She is one of the knowledgeable elders,
ceremonially charged by the Moon Goddess,
with the sustenance of inheritance. Her
foundation is found within the strobes of
lightning that tear up the Heavens,

twisting silicone lines into energetic pictures,
sketching out fertility symbols scrambled
by gusts of wind blown over phalluses, the
male half. In his dream she is his sex, and he
will want of her, a kiss,

that fills her empty womb with his bright seed.
Gray hands will steady over gray hands at
this one intercourse of primordial commissions,
where thunder pushes and pushes and pushes,
wailing life from limestone blue, into the world.