On this full moon, I wanted to share a poem I wrote while on a recent retreat to the Pearl Keys on the Caribbean coast of Nicaragua. I lay on a blanket on the white sand with the palm trees swaying overhead and reflected on a recent experience I had when my body was out of balance. I found solace in the moon on a wild night in Florida. It was Veterans Day, Donald Trump had just been elected, and everything felt crazy. I took on the tension that surrounded me and ran across the street from the bar to Indian Rocks Beach. I remember the calm the moon provided when I could barely soothe myself. I was comforted that even in the chaos, I can find peace.
And so with reverence and gratitude, I share this poem with you.
Ode to the Wild Moon Woman
I remember your voice, so confident and strong. You knew what you wanted, with no fear. No regret. No shame.
You knew where you were going.
I remember the way you walked into the room. You were bold. You were calm. You were balanced.
I watched you walk along the beach. I saw you press your hands into grains of sand, feet rising to the sky, face smiling.
Hula hoop in hand, you reached into the unknown like a warrior reaching for her arrow. You carried sorrows for miles. You wove the past like ribbons through your braided mane, capturing the sunlight and the shadows to reflect colors of gold, bronze and red. Like fire, you spread your joy. And like fire, you nearly burnt yourself up, just to make yourself alive.
And on that day, you stripped your dress from your bones as you shed the tears of a soldier who just lost the war. I saw you lay beneath the moon, rubbing your toes between the seaweed and the sand. You listened to the ocean’s call. Before you released your body into the luring of the tide, you looked into the face of the moon. Her glow, brighter. Softer, wiser than your fire, she whispered, “Stay.”
As the moon watched over you, she became your anchor. She reminded you of your strength.
Her radiance and her energy wrapped your muscle into bone and skin, breathing life back into the places that felt lost, confused and alone.
And when you were ready, you clothed your limbs with the flames of a hero and returned to your battlefield. Although your glory was almost put to shame by the theories of everyone else, the opinions and the analytics, you stood there, still burning. Still, you speak in wind and waves.
You cast away my fears with your gaze.
You are never shaken.
Oh moon woman, my love! My dearest friend. My fearless leader. Never let me go.
May we meet as friends. May we walk the sandy shores, hula hoops in hand. May we dance the wild dance again.
I met the moon the same night I wrote this poem. Beneath the swaying palms, I danced with a color changing LED hula hoop. I practiced handstands in the sand. I danced, but this time I wasn’t alone. In the presence of my sweet sisters, I let myself go. I felt free to be who I am, focusing on the present moment. I learned that while there is power in the moon, there is even more power in community. I am so grateful for my sisters in Nicaragua, amazing women who inspire me and have motivated me to navigate my life with more wisdom and freedom. May we listen for peace in our surroundings and within ourselves this next month. May we make peace with our shadows and our light. May we be willing to reach out when we feel alone to be met by the compassionate hands of our true friends.