Waxing Crescent Moon
My Hometown Poem #114
The moon had just been full the night before you died, beaming so brightly I had to look away. I could not bear the brilliance of the glowing sky. By your birthday the moon had emptied itself inside out, the night sky hollow. I looked to the heavens for reason or direction, but clouds covered the stars. Time will heal, they say, but I disagree. Time simply passes and the moon keeps moving in her phases, pulling us along from shadow to light. Today she has reemerged, a sliver, a glimmer, a tiny hook hanging in the darkest night, taking a first step toward fullness, expanding, increasing. I can gaze at her now, so small, so sweet, offering a gentle invitation to return to earth, a comfort looming in the dusk, beckoning quietly, a hopeful moon.
I am proud to be a member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. Please consider reading and supporting our members.
Beautiful ode to Jen.
Simply beautiful. A hopeful moon.
Truly.