Riley Clarke
Oh, how I wish to console the moon.
The disturbances it must see during the nights.
The confessions it must listen to
We force our shy moon to comfort us in the darkest of hours.
It is our night light –
a gift from Mother Nature for the creatures of Earth who fear the absence of light
Yet when the sun has gone to sleep and you are there in solace,
I cannot help but feel sorry for you, Moon.
I see such a sad face peering down at me mimicking my own.
I must ask,
are you sad, Moon?
Or are you solely a reflection of the faces gazing up at you?
I fear it is both.
I wish to console you yet I cannot help but disclose my most woeful of thoughts to you only. To promise you that I will not would be untrue
and you are too beautiful to tell such lies to, Moon.
What an odd friendship we have.
Let me tie a rope around your width
and pull you away from the black abyss that pools around you.
That way I can listen to all the horrors you have witnessed not for my own pleasure
but to share the sorrow you hold in your eyes
and remind you that even you, Moon.
Especially you, Moon,
are not alone.
And afterward, when your stories have run dry
or I have grown mad
I will release the rope from your bounds
and watch you float back up to your home with the ease of a helium balloon flying with the winds.
“How the weight has been lifted!”
you will rejoice so graciously.
The next night as I ponder over the tales you told,
I will rush outside to greet you only to be stunned by the illumination of the skies.
How bright you will beam.
Even the sun in its absence will be proud of the paths of light you offer.
I watch as you guide the lost fawns back to their mothers’
baby rabbits to their holes.
In the midst of it all,
I will catch glimpses of you from above with a smile on my face
only to find that you too are smiling.