Nehalennia

So much is lost, so much unknown.
You bear the fruit, you pet the dog,
you sit in silence, enthroned.
But unknown.

We parse together messages from air,
from goddesses who have come before,
but your secrets are yours alone.
And unknown.

Perched on the edge of the sea, your temple
reclaimed by water, and frail memory
washed away, into the rising foam.
You are unknown.

Yet your truths persist, in hearts and myth,
attributed elsewhere but living still.
Deep in the psyche and in the bone
You are still known.

—PJ Thompson