A lunar life
I wake at three with the half-moon bathing my face.
I turn to it full-eyed, expectant, waiting
for its pale light to fill me
with some new power.
When I was a boy I played with its light on my pillow,
pressing out dark valleys with my fingers,
pushing up great hills for its light to fall
and divide into rivers.
Now I am old and it plays me—for a fool.
And still I wait for its breathy light to blow
across these blue-white coals of desire,
growing cold.
We’ve been staying at the cabin for the weekend. It’s been grey and snowing but last night it cleared and the air went brittle and shimmery, and the moon, even at half strength, lit up the trees, and the bush became an encyclopaedia of shadows. It was all so beautiful. And yet, in the middle of the night a heavy sadness about aging kept me wide awake and finally spilled me out of bed. And then this poem came, rather quickly, and I wrote it down. This, and the fire in the wood stove, and the shifting light in the trees, put me at ease.
As I absorbed this poem I became aware of my migration from white hot coals of desire to fireplace crackling heat to the comfort of a gas fireplace in our condo with underground parking. I now treasure shared body warmth with Ginny as we sit close to watch TV. That shared body warmth compensates for the other losses.
That’s lovely, thank you for sharing that Ray!
and the bush became an encyclopaedia of shadows…
in the middle of the night a heavy sadness about aging kept me wide awake and finally spilled me out of bed –
…and the shifting light in the trees, put me at ease. –
– – –
for keepin’ it real, stephen, and for reminding us of the beautiful wisdoms that surround and hold us… thank you.
Thank you Adela! “…beautiful wisdoms that surround and hold us.” Glorious thought.
Warmth, light, a poem, a touch… small mercies, but not at all. They say what actually dying people crave most are exactly those things–humanity, honest presence. Thanks for this bit of exactly that.
Raymond’s journey mirrors mine, complete with the gas fireplace in a condo and underground parking. Having recently achieved the biblically prescribed three score and ten, I find myself going to bed late and getting up early in order to squeeze a little bit more out of the life that’s left. But I’m able to look back on the journey thus far with a great deal of gratitude….
Connie, thank you for your insight, always this, and your own honest presence.
Wonderful comment Sam. I hope you continue to squeeze for many a year.