the moon sees me, and I see…
the moon waxes full, cream-colored scattering shadows
pouring milky white over rooftops
her shining fingers, finding angles
through the slits in my blinds,
she touches my shoulder,
shifting listless I shrug her away
favoring the closer glow of lamplight
that lets me lean forward into the nightmind
peering around darkened corners
so I can write a song
about her
—ZW
my family and I travelled to be beneath the total solar eclipse on Monday.
a friend of mine asked me: on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being “changed my life forever”, what would I rate it?
I told him “10 easy”.
he followed, “how would you articulate why it was so impactful?”
and I don’t quite have a good answer for that yet. I’ll be thinking on it for a while.
but it was awe-inspiring like when you stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon. like walking in the redwoods. it was devastatingly glorious. fearful and wonderful. it felt that something in me was hailing the vastness and majesty of the cosmos, and of life itself. something also like heartsickness… and there’s a lingering sense of temporal connection with everyone who, thousands of years before us, has stood under the power of that relationship between moon and sun. if it wrought this in me—struck a deep soul chord in me—then how much more the ancients who could not take shelter within the penumbra of scientific rationalism?
I’m not sure you can always articulate why some things are deeply profound. they are deeper than articulation, than words. I’m starting to wonder if we are chiefly rational beings at all…
my poem above doesn’t have to do with the eclipse, but it seemed right to share my little layered tribute to the moon.
thanks for being here. I write weekly sharing poetry, songs, musings, thoughts on creative life, and hopefully some encouragement… what are you curious about? the poems I share are from my first collection of poetry, Snowmelt to Roots, which you can pick up at my shop, on Amazon or on B&N.
peace,
Z