A Soliloquy to the Moon

written after 2 days after that fateful night. Originally in Tagalog.

No, you cannot kiss
the moon

not in its splendor,
after the rain and slowly,
it drops from leaves, lamp posts,
and it sleeps gently
on jagged soil.

Its light beckons, yes,
from behind thin strips of clouds
and the dew that embraces it. Maybe,
rain intoxicates, like a song
as it pours on its breasts,
giving strength, peace
to her scares and doubts.

No, you cannot kiss
the moon, but too late,
too late.

A swift stroke, and the rain
is dry, vanished clouds
and dew, stars refusing
to shine. Now, its light
is no more, and will never
lay down - the moon, gone.
No, you cannot kiss

the moon, but too late,
too late.

Reviews

[Emily B]

too late . . . the melancholy is almost tangible