Daily Archive

Harshest season of all you come again,

Returning like the dark moon.

Sneaking behind us, you catch our coat tails and

drag us to the frozen lakes of tears unheard.

Powerless we fall, as Inanna did.

Yet still we try to hold our shawls close

as if we could resist your grasp.

Long nails in claws that cut through tender flesh,

strip us bare of hope.

And so we stand naked and empty,

having dropped all at each of the

seven gates of hell.

The coldest season hangs on to her prey,

releasing her not.

Inanna screams her song of terror and lamentation.

Together with her we cry ”All is lost”.

Voices plead for mercy through thick fog.

Icy breezes drift across the dead landscape

like the vapours of Inanna’s soul.

And then at last the turning comes.

The darkest days are over.

The time for ascent has come.

A new moon is born.

Inanna rises.