One moon
A poem
One moon
One moon. Earth has one moon and that’s a fact. But I see many. Don’t you? Perhaps this is one of those gray areas. I have never understood the term new moon. When I was a kid something new was something exciting, perhaps something I was given, perhaps something I found. You know, it was new. A new moon looks lost. I can’t usually find it. Sometimes it’s there, deep gray on an ink black matte but sometimes it’s just old and lost. Waxing and waning. I have looked these words up one hundred times. One means growing, and one shrinking, but which is which? Is it different every night? It looks different to me. I swear I saw the moon during the day. No one ever talks about it though, but it’s there hanging over my head at 11 in the morning. What am I to do with that? Why won’t anyone talk about it? It’s kind of pretty in its forbidden state. Someone should tell a kid’s author so they can write a story about the moon in the sky during the day. The kids probably know already. I bet they even joke about adults pretending it’s not there. And I noticed the full moon does not seem all that full. It’s there reflecting someone else’s light. I know I keep talking about kids but I remember being little and pretending I was full and everyone over thirty always told me not to care too much about what others think, and to be unique and to show the world who I am. Unless of course I didn’t care about what they thought or I didn’t believe there was just one moon. Just reflect their light. The full moon seems like it’s trying really hard. Son of a star. I think that’s me.
Thank you for being here. Please leave a comment about what strikes you, speaks to you, or stirs in you while you read. I look forward to whatever dialogue happens here, and within a week I will be following up with a Reflection post on how this poem emerged into being.
In addition, a new side of Poetry & Process was just announced, entitled Memory. This will be built around a community that desires to live with poetry as a companion in their everyday life, developing this companionship by memorizing poetry together. You can read about this launch in the recent post, Announcing: Memory. Memory launched this past Sunday with a look at Lost, by David Wagoner. The memory community is a benefit for paid Poetry & Process subscribers, and I hope you will consider joining us!
May you find peace.
Brian
The Moon as a shape-shifter, a mystery. Beautiful in its own shy way, yet always reflecting the light of a distant star. Trying so hard to find its own fullness.
I likes this very much. It reminded me of how my oldest (he's now three) could always pick out the moon in the sky, day and night. "Moo" was one of his first words.