Poetry

Silver Cord

While everyone sleeps
I slip out into the night
and deeply breathe
the lilac air

I gaze at the crescent moon
worried at heart
begging
needing more time

Not one of us
escapes her pull
as she labors through phases
to bestow her faithful beauty

The lunar cradle
connects me to every tide and tremor
every person
lost and found

(Photo by Timothy Price used with permission)

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Poetry

Last Night

The moon shone brightly
through blinded windows
Woke me
Made huge horizontal stripes
on whitewashed walls
I turned toward its familiar beauty
Smiled widely
Then wrapped in my glowing sheets
rolled back away to sleep

The moon shines on
Kabul
Soweto
and Pine Ridge too
I want to be on the moon
and wait for the earth
to rise

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