Poetry
The Goddess
The Goddess
by William Wynne
I knew you when I was seven,
As I lay out
Petting grass,
Like Earth fur,
Gulping moonlight
In the starry explosion of
A Texas summer.
I knew you when I was seventeen,
Running alone
Beside a gasping stream
Beneath tiny leaves that
Tickled silvery radiance.
Silenced
By your grace.
I knew you when I was twenty-seven,
I had slipped away
From a campfire
Traveled through the years,
Friends laughing behind me.
You were there,
Had always been there.
When I was thirty-seven,
I nearly forgot you.
My job, you know.
My family.
Time seemed short,
But you called
Until I came out.
Suddenly I was forty-seven,
A troubled number,
Ravaged and patient.
I cried to you,
Offered my soul,
You accepted …
You called me child.
At fifty-seven … so soon.
We speak more often,
But use fewer words.
Is that your mind
I hear inside my own?
I grow crazy
With happiness.
When I was sixty-seven, you waited for me
On the moonwashed hilltop.
I walked there,
A silvered veteran
Of moments.
I lay back gladly in your arms
Filled with summer.
WILLIAM WYNNE is a Celtic Pagan poet whose work appears regularly at www.paganvisions.com .
This poem originally appeared in Witches&Pagans #23 - Law and Chaos
