There really are New Moon Dances
Where polite women strike their husbands -
Where fathers pay for their sins
and men receive justice
under a dark sky and around a low fire.
Where sticks and clubs crack open what cannot be spoken
and will not be believed,
human souls are born again,
and the stones sleep because they did nothing wrong.
The very stones in anger and found nothing.
They broke each other and found justice.
At night bitterness is pounded into shoulders and fists.
In the morning, there is healing and honey.
Before God balance is restored.
The bees sting but the forgiveness is sweet.
When it is dark, the smallest of fires lays every heart bare.
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