The Goddess with the Scars

One night not long ago, 
when the moon entered her darkest time, 
I held the Goddess with the Scars 
in both of my hands again. 
I brought the beads to my lips, 
and my forehead, and my chest; 
and I prayed, not for anything 
but to share a moment of quiet. 
The next morning, Her picture emerged 
amidst the photos of old stones 
coming from my mum in the capital. 
My mum saw Her, and she recognized 
who She was. The Goddess 
is making Her way back, sweet and fierce, 
into my life, my burning heart.