He wore the cloak of the church, a Catholic priest from the settlement along the Volga River. He was waiting for a young boy to meet him, after the countryside viewing of the Madonna icon. He had enticed the peasant boy with promises of abundance, sausages for his family for his upcoming birthday. Mother, a short young woman, under the darkening sky, from afar, looked like his anticipated "god gift." Woven into her day dream by golden threads, Mother hadn’t noticed him approaching her.
On closer look, he realized she was a woman. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, but he was convinced that her blank stare held possession, taunting him for being a sinner. 
November 14, 2004
“Moon shots.” The subheading appears in the newsprint as the photo of the moon shapes the breast above the Neolithic figure’s heart. Upon completion, I write my reflection: As Moon Goddess, she sees through the darkness of the headline, “Secrets, Sins and Silence,” of the patriarchal pedafiles in the Catholic Church, and she beseeches to tell her story.
Her stance looks as if she has eggs under her arms. I stand before her, mirroring her Wu Chi Position. In response to my Tai Chi instructor’s prompts to widen my stance to be more grounded, I had queried, “Do you suppose Neolithic woman had troubles standing shoulder width apart as she walked this earth under our moon?”
Dr. Beth (as the children call Elisabeth) hung up the kindergarteners paintings of moon phases for parent/teacher conferences. They had worked hard on making their moons using white crayons to resist a blue watercolor wash, with a horizon line that separated Earth from Space.
“I love looking at the childrens’ work!” Dr. Beth told her student teacher as she worked on matting their work to hang in the hallway.
Truthfully, it brings me more joy to see their work on display than my own work. I guess that’s why I am a teacher.
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