She is Gone

She is gone, gone, gone. The last. The Elder Moon. The Mother.

Sweetly fierce about where to place her own feet.

A deep and gentle current, lingering upon the banks of kindness.

There are adumbrations of her etched in children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Whispers and anthems. They walk among us, lamenting the sudden night, trying to forget the arrows that pierced her heart before she fled to chase the sun.

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