Tribal Daughters Dancing

Crone and MoonDaughters
by Edwina Peterson Cross


Fires burning brightly,
smoke drifting upward
lacing through the branches
to the throbbing sound of drums.

My memories merely shadows
in the halls of time,
remembered only in my genes,
of tribal daughters dancing
beneath Moon's ivory light.
My glistening body moves
in unison with every other,
shoulders, breasts, and thighs
in the flickering firelight,
rim lit with Moon's seductive power.

This night
as I sit here in my chair
with embers in the fireplace glowing
but smoke no longer rising,
I think of them
though their faces are but shadows
dimmed by centuries passing.
Still, far away through time and space
I still hear the whispering
as the dancers slowly leave.

What of me, crone that I am?
Alone, but not alone
for they are with me still,
those Tribal Dancers of the Moon.
So come gather you around me,
fan the flames
for I have stories to be told
memories to be shared
of those long forgotten
Tribal Daughters Dancing.

Vi
©January 30, 2004