moon weavers…


perhaps this is some foolish
childhood memory
within each memory
lies some strand of truth
i speak to you of moon weavers
few outside these walls
know of them
so you must listen carefully
and heed my words this night
at the edge of the forest
in the small meadow
where the fog crawls
along the ground
are the spirits of warriors
the ancient ones
they spin silver threads
into braids of tears
placed upon our doorsteps
as gifts and protection
for those of us
who should own the land
if you must walk at night
you must not let a moon weaver
pass through your body
for if you do
you will feel
the sorrow of a hundred years
ancestors will appear before you
their death will feel like your death
the slaughter and rape
of those who loved this place
bathed in fire while they slept
ran down by horses
branded with bayonets
such visions have driven some mad
so beware my friend
for what you see
may be
your own history

25 thoughts on “moon weavers…

  1. So I’d better be a moon writer and not a weaver. *smiles*
    What a compelling tale. On that would be passed down generation after generation

    Delightful Charles

  2. Your poem makes me think of history as nightmarish, an awakening to which surface “truth” buries forgotten atrocities and lost customs.

  3. Love the way the photo sets the mood for what follows – the ‘foolish’ childhood memory, the warning…

    This is beautiful and touching:
    they spin silver threads
    into braids of tears

    You spin an impelling tale of past and present – and past

  4. =) sweetly smiling at dear Leslie’s comment, lol. ~ This is a wonderful writing and reminds me of some of my native heritage histories in some manner, with a certain kind of impact level that understands it, in my unusual way. To me its a statement in one sense not to carry forward negative histories into the future. If one holds within, pain sorrow, even a hatred, it will only unravel in a similiar fashion all over again.
    So many can view with varying thoughts, but I see such a kind nature directed here in these words.
    Excellent writing! ~April

  5. Charlie, this was totally creepy, and extremely well narrated !
    I was reminded of some of the stories my grandmom used to tell me when I was a kid – which she claimed actually happened when SHE was a child. Now, laugh at them, but sometimes, I do get the chills when I think about those..
    This poem had the same effect – first I laughed at the myth, and then on the 2nd read, I wondered – about the possible reality in it – the torture and slaughters could be real, and so could the other part (spirits haunting)
    A gripping poem! Bravo

  6. Now I understand…the moon weaver has passed through you, thus the passion of all your words. Beautiful image of the blue moon, makes me want to take another walk with the moon weavers. heartspell

  7. Oh, you’ve done it again… This is stunning, and tonight, when I walk my dog under the full (or nearly) moon, I’ll be hearing these words in my head. Gorgeous photo – so blue I could drink it and fall asleep for 100 years, healed of every sin ever wreaked upon man by man.

  8. We have a similar belief here in Romania… if you walk through certain areas at night, the spirits of the dead will pass through you or you will encounter the ‘iele’ – beautiful ethereal half-naked women – who will drive you mad. At any rate, going out at night in Romania is most often not a really good idea :-)))

  9. Wow. This is a perfect poem for the full moon. I was sitting up late last night after my dogs attacked and killed my cat. The moon spread enough ambient light across the field to portend a cloudy day rather the the deep hours of the night. The fog came slowly behind…but too little too late. Poor little Kahlo. Had I only known to tell her of the moon weavers….
    I love this one. Can I post it on PoMotion?
    Thanks for thinking it over. peace.

    • Sorry Sue the message for some reason went to the spam file…feel free to post on PoMotion if you want to…thanks for you kind remarks, I truly appreciate them.

  10. Boom- hip checks the top poem out of line and slides into first. lol! What a poem- you are a storyteller.
    It is amazing how many cultures have stories about something bad happening if you are outside at night. We (Ojibwe) have Windigo- huge like Big Foot that eats humans.
    Moon Weavers..what an interesting story. These MW help the humans in the shadows but if you come in contact with one its torturous for you. They weave thread made from the rays of the Moon. Beautiful! These spirits that carry all the pain going back through time make and give protection from pain. Wow! 🙂

  11. I think this might be one of my favorites, and that image is hauntingly beautiful. Love how you capture otherworldlyness here.

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