The Moon In My Pocket.
I keep the moon in my pocket, because even during the day I need her near.
I seek her out at night, through clouds and rain. I know when I don’t see her she sees me. I know her glow lives in my heart and I carry her in my pants in my front right pocket.
You see the moon is light to me.
I know the moon is known for having a side we cannot see. I know she has a dark side but we all do. And though it is a side that hides she does not hide the fact that it’s hidden.
There is much in life that hides. Sometimes it feels like light hides, when we get caught in shadows. Sometimes it feels like darkness won’t show itself in a way to know. When this happens we often find ourselves stuck in a limbo without much light and without much shade. Then the shadow falls over us and holds us so tight it can be hard to breathe.
So I keep the moon close. The moon is always present, day or night. I can feel her at noon as well as at midnight. I don’t need to see her shape though I like to know if she waxes or wanes and love to celebrate her fullness, like a promise that is never broken.
Because promises break, like a glass of water that is knocked to the floor, accidentally. The glass shatters. The water spills. If it is not cleaned up carefully, a shard can make someone bleed. Promises aren’t meant to be broken. But it happens.
So much can happen in the day-to-day. One day you wake up to a full house and healthy cat and the next day the house is empty and the cat is sick.
One day you know what you want to do and by night you don’t know.
One day you have a memory and the next day what you remembered cannot be true.
We are the stories we tell ourselves.
I let the moon tell mine. I look up at her and know she’s shy or why show half her face? I paint her eye lid onto mine when she’s no more than a sliver in the sky, winking. And when she gets a little fuller I feel hope blossom, I hear the moon fairies dance in the leaves and I know some promises are never broken.
Love is an odd winged wish. We learn to love and learn love hurts. We learn to love through imperfection and the shady side of need and want. We learn to love and learn that is what makes us special.
I know the moon loves me even when I forget about the many others who do. The moon is in my pocket. She is safe there. She keeps me safe. Promises may break. Love is imperfect. But the moon will always be near and because I know that, I always remember life’s phases come and go, wax and wane. Some moments are full and others are not.
Life is about change. The moon teaches me I can when I cannot.