There was something about sister moon with her knowing widening smile and the landscapes of her body.

I’d always had a sense of knownness towards her and as I bathed in her light, I embodied a sense of silvery coldness yet warm embrace.

I felt the swathes and pulls of her tides as they seemed to stack in my body from the feet up, piling loss, life, ancestors and a pulling apart in the layers to which I impressed and embedded myself.

I was always looking for integration somehow, to be folded and enfolded in the breast of the universe.

It felt like she had witnessed many lives of advancing, retreating and dancing, her mysterious landings on the beach were filled with waning, longing, illumination.

Brightness makes a wonderful carving sometimes but contains a saccharine flavour if over exposed. My relationship to her had always been complex shaped by my feeling of her gathering up what I sensed I never had.

I’d seen her create rock pools like portals to discover, a tableaux of shadow people with whom I danced and moved at the seams, as if lost and found in the same ethereal theme. Dreamtime was moonshine and the space inbetween.

Written by Sarah Boreham during the ‘Moving into summer weekend’ with Helen Poynor Walk of Life 2015