The sky is purple black;
brilliant, tiny pinpricks of light scattered across.
How is it I feel
the rays of the Sun at my back?
I paint my Moon a deep burnt umber
to match my deeper mood.
She is my bright, lone star; and,
I expose all the darkest woes
for her to see.
She is the beginning and the end.
She takes everything.
What can be left
after the Sun returns
from his hiatus?
How will it be after sharing
such secret intimacies
after so many years?
How can one turn back
from a thing so dear?
In the umbra of my darkness
I open to let you take
what can’t reflect
your pure illumined face.
I cast this umber shadow
as a token of my surrender
to your loving Grace.
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 11:20 AM UTC
The sky is purple black;
brilliant, tiny pinpricks of light scattered across.
How is it I feel
the rays of the Sun at my back?
I paint my Moon a deep burnt umber
to match my deeper mood.
She is my bright, lone star; and,
I expose all the darkest woes
for her to see.
She is the beginning and the end.
She takes everything.
What can be left
after the Sun returns
from his hiatus?
How will it be after sharing
such secret intimacies
after so many years?
How can one turn back
from a thing so dear?
In the umbra of my darkness
I open to let you take
what can’t reflect
your pure illumined face.
I cast this umber shadow
as a token of my surrender
to your loving Grace.
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