The Moon

The moon shines bright

Over the gently rolling water

Of the lake below

The lake full of my tears.

Tears shed bitterly

Like the harshly blowing wind

Whipping snow flurries past my face

At a million miles an hour.

The moon has always been there for me.

Guiding me home

Leading me to safety

Helping me find shelter from the storms.

I see the moon in the words;

“That’s rough.”

“Sweet.”

“Umm,” and

“I love y’all a lot.”

In “Cool.”

“Hey girl.”

“What’s up.”

And, “You Up?”

I feel the comfort of the moon

In the fast flung explanations.

In the long-winded answers

And the Southern Goodbyes.

Why then, must the moon wane?

Every two fortnights she disappears.

And no longer does he light my way.

No longer does the moon help me home.

Like any mortal help,

The moon is fallible.

And is not the source of light.

That honor falls to the Sun.

The Son is the light of the world.

But is unapproachable

And oftentimes

Downright scary.

So mortals like myself

Must wait in the wings

Hoping a much braver soul than myself

Will take the risk.

Take the risk and light the weak

Bring hope and peace

To those in need

And most especially to me.

But the sun,

Like so often many

Positive and brilliant things,

Burns to the touch.

Burns like love.

Burns out passion.

Burns hot like anger.

Burns bright until it dies.

Like the light in her eyes

As she slipped into death.

Like the beat of his heart

As he left me behind.

Like the hope in my soul,

All my happiness turned cold.

My broken heart was sold

To the highest bidder. Told,

“No, I don’t want you.”

“I’m sorry but no.”

“I do like someone else.”

“My answer is no, I’m sorry.”

My loving, carefree heart.

Was pushed into the lake,

Shoved aside until it was too late.

Was left behind, for laziness sake.

And so I stand,

Waiting for my moon to return,

But dreading the hurt

The Sun’s rays will bring.

To light.

To life.

‘Til death

I’ll fight.