Child Of The Crescent Moon

The doctor thought he himself had chosen her birthday 

After all, he did it all the time , at his convenience

Self important, his Christmas vacation at hand

Check off this birth, so he could get on the road 

But truly he was a pawn, a puzzle piece 

Someone in charge of The Rules 

Thought it was fitting 

Perhaps even funny or ironic 

To try and block the moon’s energy

From one of Sariel’s line

Except, as an agent of The Must Be

He couldn’t even allow himself the dry laughter

So, the Sunflowers laughed at his folly 

And those under the earth rolled their eyes 

Incredulous that he thought his plan could work 

She and those like her were HERE

Because that assumption was untrue  

Creation will NOT be placed into a box 

Always, endless options will push through

Like bulbs in the spring

The child, born on the sliver of the Crescent Moon 

Did not turn out too weak to push boundaries

Her natural ways confounding the status quo
Leaving a trail of bent assumptions
And altered wavelengths in her wake

Indeed, one could say

Rarely has a plan backfired 

So splendidly

The child was both light and dark 

Both human and angel 

Comfortable with the magickal and the mundane

She was Witch

A quiet knowing behind her eyes 

Many tried to define her

She defied the categories every time

A hybrid in every possible way

Managing to weave a tapestry

Somewhere between that which is immovable 

And all the things that indeed WERE moved,  at her bidding 

She was a liminal creature

The land of in-between was the source of her greatest strength

Making her stand, always on the blade's edge 

Both and neither simultaneously

It was at first exquisite pain

But in the end it was power, peace and healing

In the place where fate and destiny become one

Where Will and Surrender make love and merge

She found the place of her truth 

The Norns looked on

They had handed her a key to deep understanding

Simply by virtue of presence 

Not even the winged ones 

Have dominion over the Norns, after all 

For Her part, the Moon, in all of her ways

Quietly blessed the Crescent Moon Child
In ways unseen and unknown
As she does with all of Her Dark Children

Creation is endless, dense and fierce
Sweet scented is Her growth
Tendrils and trunks, growth in every direction
You cannot control Her
So, you'd best look to your own Work