Shifting Moon

Dear Moon,

I’ve waited for the silence to deepen—

for the day’s noise to dissolve

so I could finally speak to you.

You, who have leaned above every ocean,

slipped through forest branches,

and kept company with sleepless windows—

you know how long I’ve carried this letter

in the hollow of my chest.

I do not ask for your secrets;

I know you keep them stitched in silver.

I only ask that you hold my words

as you hold tides—

a pull, unseen yet constant.

Do you ever grow weary

of being so many things at once?

Myth and mirror, lantern and lullaby.

Still you rise,

as if to say:

I will not abandon you to the dark.

Tonight, let me call you not distant,

but familiar.

Tonight, I’ll imagine you leaning closer,

listening,

as if my small voice

was the one you had been waiting for

all along.