Reparation
It was not my moon that watched malignly as you suffered.
My moon, when gloriously full, showed me the crystal stillness of the night.
My moon illuminated beings that moved and lived and played in the darkness.
My moon showed me the best holds as I climbed out of my attic bedroom window on warm
summer nights and down three stories to the waiting pear tree, as my parents snored peacefully
believing me locked away safely above them.
My moon cast dark shadows, dark enough for me to stand invisible to the late night
weavings of drunken adults, and the angst ridden chaos of errant teens.
My moon and the night skies were my friends, they kept my secrets and helped me find my way
back to my attic room with time to spare before the dawn tried to tattle.
But your moon…heralded terror.
Your moon signaled to an evil that it was time to grab you up.
Your moon watched with malevolent indifference as your tears rolled silently in the dust on your
face and smeared on your hands,
Your moon smiled as the fiends who should have protected you,
abused your body and your soul.
Your moon demanded this of you again and again, in what seemed a
never ending chain of torture.
And now I know.
And though I still love my moon and the night…I no longer lament the clouds that obscure them.
I give them up when this happens, in reparation for the pains you endured, are still enduring.
I give them up in compassion, not forced upon me, but driven by a need to help you heal.
And even though it was not I, it was not my moon that did you harm – I give up it up willingly,
and in my heart I know that it will never really be enough, this reparation, but it’s a start.
~ Natalia Corres
Natalia Corres, retired tech whisperer, has written weekly web news for examiner.com for 3 years, as well as publishing a Pet Services Directory for her local area. She enjoys writing poetry, non-fiction, and urban fiction; as well as providing creative assistance to others in film and animation projects.
Wow, beautiful, Natalia. <3
I long for your moon.