Lunar and luteal phases link hands
And pull her inward to where her past stands
Accused she witnesses again her disgrace,
The night grows dark when the moon hides her face
Do you ask where she goes?
Certain to regrow, her pace never slows
For renewed as she faces the light,
She waxes and wanes, off’ring pale moonlight
Reflecting the sun until shadows creep in
Making waves in the brine of shame she steeps in
Never changed but called new
When her face comes back bright
Where she goes none pursue
Who still fear the night
the well-rested mother 
Lovely!
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