…won’t withhold the moon from me

In the depths of the night
in the brief moments that the world lowers its voice
I hear the things that haunt me
and they carry me away again
away from my pain, away from my racing thoughts
away from the isolation
and the unwelcome presence, of the aching absence of sleep
the quiet songs of the wind
that brush ever so gently against my naked skin
unknowingly trigger bolts of lightning
that for seconds, burn deeper than sin
but as I breathe, in and out, one breath after another
eyes closed, heart open, a lyrical melody calls to me
a cicada serenading the night, calling to his beloved
his whispered secrets, although not meant for me
still soothe my aching soul
his undulating chorus,rising and falling
in the echoing corridors of the depths of darkness
competing decibels with the orchestra of torture
buried deep, so deep in the crumbling canyons of my bones
but eyes still closed and heart still open, I breathe
one deep breath, after another
and I think of the brevity of cicada life
and am in awe of their joyful songs
their precious moments out of the darkness
spent living out loud
as the symphony of moonlight sifts through the trees
through the curtains and through to me
soft and shimmering
yet in her silence, the lady moon still sings
she sings in gold and silver
her touch feather light in my ever aching heart
my eyes are now open
and I breathe her in, breath after breath
and close my heart for long seconds
just to feel her healing touch
then unwillingly, I set her free returning her to the sky
that moment of freedom that she gifted to me
those seconds of peace I cherished
so who am I to keep her contained
when even the clouds
won’t withhold the moon from me?
© Ann Bagnall