Moonwater

Where the night pours its light

Celtic mother

I have tasted the water of the sombre gray lake. Its darkest secrets are mine.

The sea-bird breathing thin ice-air sings a song of the meadows far away.

Someone there keeps a thread, a woman without a face, with hands of earth,

deep deep her voice when she says a prayer and she calls my name.

Vaishali Paliwal

November 29, 2025