The goddess, cloaked in moonlight, shines, as I ruminate on her nature.
Child of the great one.
Sister to the stars and sun.
Or was she?
In the records made by man she is one with the Tagalogs, while others put her origins in the Kapampangan homeland.
Whatever the case she shines upon those worthy of her presence.
There are tales of a goddess seemingly more ancient than she.
Kulalaying or the maiden in the moon. A name attested to by the scribes of foreigners.
The ancestors still revered the moon no matter her name.
They would drink and be merry, with offerings to the goddess plentiful.
“Buwang Panginoon ko, payamanin mo ako.” (Moon my lady, make me rich), was the refrain from mortal words.
She shielded her people with silver light, always the protector.
But her domain was vast.
She was warrior.
She was the hunt.
She was beauty.
She was strength.
All of these and more were part of her.
And her followers were legion.
Her aspect as a hunter was called upon while stalking the wild boar.
The beauty of the moon was still unmatched.
Replicants of her countenance were many, maidens who wanted to command the silver face of the moon for their own ends. But it would forever be unattainable, a mortal’s life but a moment lost to time.
Mayari’s own legends are a footnote of her family.
Was she the child of the great one and an earthworld human?
Sister of the stars, but in some tales also their mother?
These tales sometimes reach to the apocryphal.
But that doesn’t matter.
Each night Mayari moves through the cosmos, inspiring those that give it pause.
I write this now as I look outside the windowed glass.
She is waning now, shedding the trappings of her clouds.
There are those, sensitive to the world of spirits that can foretell using the most mundane of objects.
It is moonset, the end of the cycle.
I take a breath.
And a call rings out.
It is she who reads.
I had consulted with her a month prior. She was telling me to follow the moon and her path.
I am wanting for a reprieve.
And power only Mayari can command.
The sun had been bearing down with sizzling heat, only the soft comfort of the moon an oasis from the onslaught of light.
I pray to the many aspects of the moon to battle her brother.
They had fought before in times when gods walked through the earthworld.
The sun struck Mayari and blinded her in one eye.
But now battle seemed to be the only way.
The sun had overreached and the heat that emanated made the mortals shake in anguish.
The very earth cried for relief.
But there was none to be found.
To Mayari, bright moon, take up arms against your brother. Forgive us for forgetting your presence.
Forgive us.
Please.
=——————————=
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by The Philippine Myths, Legends, and Folktales | Maximo Ramos | 1990
Illustration by Frances Alcaraz
Website: http://francesalcaraz.com/
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