WitchMother

The Dark Moon bleeds into the Night
This Night, every night
And with a passion that consumes
The light is taken in like a lover.
She rises up from the cremation fields
She is lovely in the dark light
Of the Black Flame of GOD within
And she shines like a polished stone
You can see your own fears
Reflected in her dark smooth flesh
This dark mother
This gaping womb/tomb that opens
Itself like a lover.
Kali, some call her
Other Lilith, the Mother of Demons,
But she is the one who left her son
At the gates of the Garden
To be ravaged by the ones who
Give love as a gift with strings.
And he grew to Man, and he slew
Brother, and he turned to the wilderness
In HER name looking for MOTHER.
And she found him hard and ready
And she took him in and spat him out
And she licked the Mark that he carried
The only gift he could take from the Garden.
And she lifted him, took him fully in her
Cupped hands, and washed him ‘in the blood’
In her blood, the Blood of the Mother.
And she wished in his ear, the secrets of the Angels
And the language of the Winged Ones
Roared like a reckless river out of control
Rushing, searching for the Wide Open Ocean
Masculine and Feminine meeting in a spray
That reflected ALL the colors.
But in the end, there are NO colors.
And the darkness settles for a time.
And she blooms, a bloody black rose
Who wilts as sudden as she opens.
And she Becomes WitchMother
With a kiss against a blistered cheek.
I.A.O. Ka-li-lith!