When the Moon Cries

When the Moon Cries

There are nights when the moon doesn't shine—

not because she's hidden,

but because she's hurting.

She watches the world

from high above,

holding secrets in her silver glow,

glimpses of broken hearts and tired eyes

that never say a word.

The moon, she’s seen it all—

the letters that were never sent,

the promises left hanging in midnight air,

the lovers who drift like clouds,

silent, slow, inevitable.

When the moon cries,

her tears fall quietly

into oceans, into dreams,

into the space between "what was" and "what could've been."

She doesn’t shout.

She doesn’t storm.

She simply glows softer,

as if dimming herself is the only way to be understood.

I saw her cry once,

on a night my heart felt like a room

with no windows and no doors.

She was there—

not fixing, not rescuing,

just staying.

Present.

Still.

Real.

It made me wonder—

maybe that’s enough sometimes.

Maybe healing doesn’t always come

with answers or closure,

but with quiet company under a pale light

that says, “You’re not alone.”

So if you look up

and find her blurred,

don’t be afraid.

She’s not broken—

just brave enough

to feel everything

and still show up.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi