To the Sun and the Moon
When one friend calls you the sun,
and the other calls you the moon,
I guess that makes you a solar eclipse.
That’s how you’d feel when they tell you this.
Your light beams dazzle,
dancing around the crisp dark edges,
as sunset meets sunrise for the first time.
The morning birds call out
and the crickets chirp,
and it’s like a symphony
you’ve never heard before
because it sounds like harmony.
Like belonging. Like worth.
And the other stars come out to witness,
as they place the rectangle lenses
over their eyes and look toward you,
twisting their heads just to see
that in this moment
In this moment,
you’re nearly fourteen billion years
of becoming, atoms slowly shifting,
molecules shivering as if they were
asking space to give them a blanket,
something beautiful to cover them
And you’d be there.
A gentle reminder that
without the sun, there can be no brilliance
in the reflection of the moon,
no warmth to cover us in moss and forests;
without the moon, there’d be nothing to reflect,
the earth may forget to breathe,
the oceans might forget how to dance.
Nothing to expect except
that the days would go on,
we’d build our castles,
we’d lose some of our wonder
about the stars, but no one
would know the difference
of what never was.
Mostly, you’d recognize just
how briefly we are here.
As fast as the moon embraces the sun,
it begins to uncover itself.
Unwinds into midday, as if
you wanted us to have a sense
that we were time-traveling,
we could see all of where we’ve been,
what we’ve done, what we didn’t do,
what we wished we did and where
that life was taking us.
As if you wanted to strip down
into the most honest form of yourself,
full of gratitude and wonder
and regret and longing.
And then you disappear into the light of day.
The eclipse ceases to exist.
And in that last moment
you may look back on your time,
and when you do,
I hope you realize
how beautiful it was.
To be dancing across the sky,
to see life as it was,
unique to the moments that you lived,
to see light,
and ice cream,
and to belong somewhere.