Eclipse

Dear Moon,

I used to hold your light in my hands,

small and trembling,

as if I could cradle the night itself.

You were all glow and breath and heartbeat,

a silver pulse against my chest.

.

Now the Earth tilts,

and the shadow finds you.

Slowly, you vanish,

not all at once -

but piece by piece,

the way a memory forgets itself.

.

They call it an eclipse.

I call it the moment my world turned away.

.

The sky holds its breath as if mourning too,

and I want to ask -

will you come back the same?

Will you know my voice when the dark passes?

.

I still light your window.

I still whisper your name into the linen quiet,

as if sound could cross the cold between us.

If you could only see me,

I'd show you the garden -

how the flowers refuse to bloom tonight,

how even their petals bow to shadow.

.

Dear one,

I keep my eyes open through the whole eclipse,

though they tell me not to.

I want to see you,

even as you go.

.

And when the light edges back -

that first thin sigh of silver -

I imagine it's your hand,

reaching once more through the dark,

to say,

you remember me.