i often hold hands with the moon.

i call on her for comfort and guidance
and she extends a shimmering branch down to me

almost like a stairway to a permanent escape from my reality of despair.

she doesn’t say anything.

the silence between us is loud enough to power a stadium and somehow
we understand each other like i have never understood anyone before

she knows me better than i know myself.

she knows the way i only call on her when i am desperate yet she doesn’t seem to be upset.

her embrace feels like the warmth of the sun on a hot summers day where the trees are resting and scattered loose paper lays still.

i often hold hands with the moon.


»a.n.o’h