Things in my broom closet
things that stay, things that sway
like the screams of my body
clasped by your ugliness, my face
like the red knitted scarf, knotted
braided with wild fire and moon drops
like amazing mistakes from my altar
soaked in a jar of blue illuminance
like pieces of luck written on stones
pebbles collected as I stumbled along
like a bottle of shame
gathered into stillness beneath dark corners
like strings of static energy
locked away from my hidden worship of the moon
like instruction charts meant for my impoverished heart
allowing me to sustain my tissue even in ultimate grief
like earthenware bowls of caution
with water gathered from an elevating luna
Luna brings into herself, a reverie of the world
like me, in my witchest moments
she is pulling and pushing
me a rhythmic priestess
she accessible yet distant
shaping into a full bursting self
through to the moment of release
waxing and waning to 29 cycles
I saturate with color and loss
languorous, endowed with light
dancing into cycles of renewal
bleeding of herself into the earth
just yielding to my bountiful body
is magic, just embodying transience
makes me a goddess
®️©️Kashiana.wordpress.com
NaPoWriMo 2019
Witchcraft, magic, moon
Kashiana 
Woah! This was deep. Wouldn’t want to get anywhere near the closet or you
during the 29 cycles. 🙂
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Excellent! Amazing simile and metaphor action!
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