Saturday, October 2, 2021

Mirror Moon

 
 

 

 
 Mirror Moon
 
 
 
There wasn't much left of the moon
when they got done with her.
They walked on her face
turned her rock and dust
blood and bone
to specimens and souvenirs.
Only her bright eye 
stayed open, and her broken lips
still formed the oldest words.
 
She was seen
because she'd learned to
give back light, heat, the radiation
bombarding her, her severed mouth
buzzing at the mad, at poets and priestesses.
Split between fire and ice
shadow and sun, she made a mirror for
silver darkness, perfectly alone
in an array piercing infinite night.

There was not much left of me
when you were through;
a circled eye half blind,
a mumble of separated lips
lost to reason. I found myself
sistered by the moon; she knew me
still despite the shatter
and with her borrowed light
she let me shine.
 
 
 
 

October 2021


 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
posted for
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: Untitled, author unknown via Sunday Muse Fair Use
Night, 1905 © Mikalojus Konstantinus Ciurlionis Fair Use

23 comments:

  1. You capture the duple sense of the image, the startling yet natural connection to moon observing and reflecting, the infinite and the personal.

    It's good to see you posting again.

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    1. Thanks, M. Good to see your new material as well. I've decided I need to keep that part of me alive. I hope all is well with you, my friend.

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  2. Sigh......this is so beautiful Joy!! So many deep and beautiful images brought to our eyes here, and the feelings stirred are ones many of us women can relate to. Being drained from the constant being light for someone else. I love the hopeful beauty at the closing, and the comradery felt. A simply gorgeous poem!!! I am always so happy to see you at the Muse!!

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    1. Thank you so much, Carrie, for your gracious reading and kind words, and for hosting. This wouldn't have been written without your image.

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  3. I love the description of the divided and desecrated Moon, and how she perseveres, as the speaker also does, and the partnership at the end. Lovely stuff, dear BFF.

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  4. Just wow. Form the last line of the first stanza where something indomitable and ancient survives, and then the parallel in the last stanza, lost to reason, lunacy, sistered by the moon.

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    1. Thanks, qbit. Nice pick up on the lunacy aspect.

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  5. The dark flowers of implied violence; abuse. Scent given in the form of poetry.

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  6. I'm not sure how you do what you do, but there is an organic wholeness to your poems. I like the idea that the moon is not only a victim of abuse and exploitation, but she has risen from it stronger than ever -- and holding out her hand to help others. My favorite lines:
    "she made a mirror for
    silver darkness, perfectly alone
    in an array piercing infinite night."
    and
    "still despite the shatter
    and with her borrowed light
    she let me shine."

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    1. Glad you liked those lines--they are the most edited in the poem, and I still feel they need some work, but when you write spontaneously, there's always something that doesn't get the time it needs. Thanks for reading, and for the kind words.

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  7. Wonderful, Joy. The planets must tremble in fear humans will find them.......i love that with her borrowed light, she let you shine anyway.

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    1. Thank you Sherry. We all need to borrow some light occasionally.

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  8. This is awesome poetry. It's exactly what many humans would do to the moon if they could, as they have done to our own planet. It's also exactly what some humans have done to other humans, i.e. especially women. The connection is simply beautiful.

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  9. This gets under the skin; it's the kind of poem that highlights my own fragility of understanding.

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  10. she made a mirror for
    silver darkness

    Love this, Joy! Cleverly placed, knowing fully well there's no source of light within her but still managed it through the reflection from the sun!

    Hank

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  11. The moon is exploited by the darkness even though she gives out light in the universe. I can relate on some level, as I am forever seeking the light in this world filled with skies of gray. There is always hope that the light within will once again shine. I think of those going on those rides into space, they don't really care about the universe they just want a new thrill. sigh...sorry off on a tangent here. I think it is difficult to be a vessel of light.

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  12. Beautiful, dark, hopeful in a slashed, radiation bombarded way. It is a perfect voice for the image. Can't pick favorite lines. The whole poem is brilliant.

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  13. And the moon will save her ……… an exquisite poem.

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  14. Solace found in such dark parallels:
    'she knew me
    still despite the shatter
    and with her borrowed light
    she let me shine.' Shine on sister. A powerful poem.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats