Gibbous by Holly Cross

The gibbous moon glows
And my round tummy grows
Like the face of the she-moon.
The womb inside waxes and wanes with her;
A great silver coin in a black silken purse.

The woman in the moon weeps for us.
She mourns for the lost daughters
Cast across the brown belly of the earth.
Scattered. Separated. Unaware of her.

She rides across the glittered sky
Pregnant, full of a longing,
Waiting for the moment
When just one of us will look up
And realize not her power
But our own.