Even in Blackest Night the Moon Shines

Even in Blackest Night the Moon Shines

And yet on her far side, colder, darker,
I languish unrequited . . . not because
she will not; because she cannot. What cause
might so humble our closest and starker
queen of night? What past sin could so darken
that child, stillborn and screaming, deep within
her tragic soul. She bites—part of us dies

and yet the sun reflects beyond the earth
to light one slight part of mother moon, whether
slivered just beyond earth’s haloed shadow,
or covered from human sight by quilted clouds,
such that even in blackest night she shines
somewhere in herself, of herself, and yet
ever interdependent with sun & earth.

David M Pitchford
11 February 2009 – 8 May 2009