Praying Herd: For Safe Journey

Draw a line through our scattered bodies. The pattern of fallen calves in this meadow will mirror

the constellation above. Look up. We whip our tails to a silent song:

We sing to the moon, ask for wings to lift our flock to heaven;

We plead to the moon, since she will take pity;

We beg of the moon since she changes, as our circumstance must also change;

We repent to the moon to release the dead in her unspooling;

We praise the moon who gives birth to herself; 

We venerate the moon our scarred mother;

We confess to the moon since she is forlorn, as we are forlorn;

We call to the moon since she passes, as we must also pass;

We pray to the moon since the forest is her echo, and we are made in her visage;

We sing to the moon, ever-abandoned by the sun, as we are also abandoned