Moon Child Moon

On the night of the Moon Child Moon,
a warm February light paints each grateful tree
and settles on the forest floor.
Gazing into the white-glazed night forest,
I must not breathe.
I pause to wait for the silvery Moon Child Moon
to paint me, too,  with loving light.
I’ve nowhere to go.
I wear winter’s soft gown.
I will stop and root into the ground, 
silent as the next long tree,
waiting, wondering, patient.

Annelinde Metzner

February 4, 1996

Festival of Fez

Drums in Fez, Morocco

I cannot hate these people
who opened their doors to me,
who opened their country to me,
Morocco, 2002.
Hate is the impossible word.
All I felt was love...
Children running to see us
on our climb through the olive groves
to the shrine on the hillside of the Holy City.
Our walks in the impossible labyrinth of Fez,
families at their creative work,
a father, a son embroidering,
a copper engraver tap, tap, tapping
amid the ever-present cacophony of the medina.
That word does not fit here,
in this Moroccan sacred society,
the call to prayer five times a day,
the ablutions at the ancient fountain.
The music I stumble upon,
the poet and the oud player in the riad courtyard,
among  the roses and the laughing children,
the fado singer in the museum gardens,
the women of Chechnya chanting.
Never will I hate these people,
my family of Man,
the young woman painting my hand with henna.
There is this place in my heart 
where hate can never be.

Annelinde Metzner
Fez Festival of Sacred Music
February 4, 2017

I was blessed to attend the Fez Festival of Sacred Music in Fez, Morocco in 2002.   Carolina Day School, where I taught music, honored me with a two-week tour of Fez and Marrakech run by Sufis who welcomed me as part of their spiritual practice.
     The political atmosphere in the USA at this moment forms a huge cultural dissonance with my experience in this welcoming and highly creative Muslim country. I wept as I wrote this poem, because this chasm is unbearable.

Boy holding embroidery thread for his father

Father embroidering, Grandfather standing nearby

Three generations at a Sufi issawa, an all night music ceremony

Portuguese Fado singer in a museum concert

Chechnyan women's singing ensemble

Getting henna painted on my hand at an Issawa

Olive groves near the shrine of a saint

Tree of Life tiles at a pottery

Holle makes the Snow

A surprise snow!  Just cold enough.
Holle's laughter tinkles from the heavens
and the birds answer with their joy.
I am transfixed, enchanted,
my head tilting, my eyes softening.
I step outside to let the flakes
fall on my face and shoulders,
awakening my being with their icy touch.
Each flake is a blessing!
Holle makes the flakes bigger,
shaking, shaking Her featherbed,
looking for faces turning up
to hear Her laugh.
She shakes harder, more snow falls, and more!
The air is white with snow. Holle cackles with glee!
The world is blessed, purified,
leaf and bark, feathers and skin,
just for being,
just for our laughter and joy.

Annelinde Metzner
Black Mountain
January 31, 2020

Beautiful snow at my house

 Our January 31st surprise snow.  Thanks, Jude Lally, for the video!  It captures the surprise and the beauty.