Letters to the Moon

This is a poem for a friend. She's been a good friend despite our circumstances and I want her to be happy with all my heart. This is for you, lovely.

 

My dear,

I know you smolder inside.

The charred halves of buildings and trees

and life itself,

All these still hot beneath their black

exteriors.

The embers though,

scattered across this city

of your heartbeat,

with time

will cool;

their ashes providing

the softest bed for curls of remedial vines

- - to sprout slowly forth,

- - - to spread their healing leaves,

- - - - to bud, small and hopeful at first,

- - - - - to grow lush and green and new and then,

to blossom.

 

That will be the day

you give your heart

away again.

It will be whole,

the city born anew,

from soil rich with ash.

If you can just imagine

that first love which still burns you now,

still pricks you with thorns—

grown over, in time, by carpets

of velvet grass and wild strawberries and clover—

serving as the anchor

for roots of second love:

re-grown, rebuilt, a more beautiful land.

 

Dear friend, 

I do know what I have.

I know what skin my kisses land upon.

Each day I awake to find a home

at the center of my soul,

rushing water, swaying branches, warm breeze,

a place of colorful buildings and

pieces of sunshine,

mixed in with the rain I love.

These days I dance more,

I sing more,

though I do not dance and I do not

sing.

It’s just, this body won’t stay still

and this mouth,

it won’t stay shut

for even lack of tune.

My throat hums the happiness

pulsing in my veins.

 

Dear Moon,

Our heavenly bodies

May not be perfect spheres,

Nor hollow mouths

Unflawed with perfect crystal teeth.

But whoever decided

that perfection was beautiful anyway?

I think that places and people

and the people

places lead to

are far more meaningful

when marred with footprints.

In places I may walk in your stead,

in places I may walk beside you.

Your wings are still at your back,

Ready for you to fly,

To orbit around a planet that is solely yours,

To twirl in a cape

Of hair I once said

Was a mixture of rust and sunlight.

Fly into that sky, Moon,

and take your place among the stars.

Far more beautiful,

and a thousand times

as bright.

The End

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