Shadow’s Omen

Moon,

when the shadow eats you,

the air turns iron.

The rivers still.

Birds fall silent mid-flight,

their wings struck dumb.

The old ones said a dragon swallowed you,

that wolves had their victory.

But I know it is more—

it is a wound opened in the sky,

a door flung wide

between what was

and what waits.

I write from beneath your fading glow.

The trees groan,

their roots clutching the earth

as if to hold it steady.

I want to cry out,

but my voice cannot rise where yours is swallowed.

When you return,

you are altered.

And so am I.