At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come as press its face against mine. Breathe into me. ~ Rumi
At night.
When my part of the world is mostly asleep or rumbling in their night games,
warm milk, pacing the floor, listening to sirens in the street far below,
I seek the brightness of the moon.
Its beams slip through my fingers, dusty cool light,
deep breath and I swallow pure light, cleanse those old words,
reverberating, angry. The echoes linger.
I push away their swirling energy before their voracious appetite eats me alive,
nibbles at my heart, carves a cavernous hole
in my chest where the pain and rejection lives.
Wild animal claws.
Moon, dress me with your blue light,
your calm, your wisdom, guide me as I walk away, past the
words flung from darkness, curses to corral my spirit,
you who do not believe in hope, do not steal mine.
I move on, the past drifts into faraway fog
again I breathe in the cool light, step from the shadow
of whispering doubts flung my way,
break from the shackles of your claustrophobic grip.
Breathing freedom.
Cast in the soft glow, awash in light.
I am whole. I am.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Rumi inspires poetry, late night in a far-away-from-home airport.