Moon and Me
A poem by Melody
It was the moon,
not pale-faced and insipid,
but luminous and holy, that transfixed me tonight;
the way it rubbed the underside of clouds;
and needed no choir of angels to herald it.
(There could have been angels,
and it would have been appropriate).
I kept looking over my shoulder at the radiant circle-
I kept checking that the moment hadn’t passed,
that I was still held in the cold air,
a distant correspondent of the moon:
me, a pale-faced, insipid girl,
looking up at the bold, enduring orb.
I asked myself a question –
(the moon seeded it in my heart…)
“why do I make it complicated?”
For at that moment I saw it – I saw the Simple Thing:
to do what is natural;
to do what is my-self;
to do what I have been doing,
what I have dismissed –
That is all.
The Simple Thing.