My Moon

Who has seen the moon rise

as a tissue paper seraph singing

ballads of brevity to a sky suffused

            with orphaned stars?

 

I have seen her there     swelling

above the Poplar and Ash

when night swings low to touch

            with delicate fingers

the softly trembling boughs.    

 

She has known my deepest secrets

as crumpled paper tossed from bridges

when tears are little prayers sinking

as stones would do in deep water.

 

In moments of weakness     she has

watched me fall to my knees

in tear-stained supplication     and

as an ever silent saint she shines

all the brighter in times of torment. 

 

What is the definition of beauty

if not an un-dimmable force

that as surely as our own flesh

            shrinks and thins with age

will ever remain a pale-blooming Lotus

            floating upon a charcoal lake?   

Reviews

[Anand Sehgal]

She has known my deepest secrets
as crumpled paper tossed from bridges
when tears are little prayers sinking
as stones would do in deep water.

What is the definition of beauty
if not an un-dimmable force
that as surely as our own flesh
shrinks and thins with age
will ever remain a pale-blooming Lotus
floating upon a charcoal lake?

Can there be a better imagery? I doubt .!

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

You humble me! I'm so happy you liked this one...it really spoke to me as I was writing it.

[Anand Sehgal]

try circum-contentive imagery as I said.

[Pryde Foltz]

At times, it seems the moon is the only one to offer solace. You applied a soft hand on this piece and it has produced a delicate and fine verse. Really, some thing beautiful.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much, Pryde. The moon holds more of my secrets than i care to admitt...she is definitely a beauty in the sky.