This eclipse was a slow concealing
Of the light of the moon.
Gradual but deliberate,
It darkened the night sky.
I suppose the eclipse of the human happens
With the same gradual intentionality.
I wonder if the sky thought it had ended too,
When the light went out, leaving only blackness.
I wonder if it kept checking,
Looking for the moon in the place
Where she once shined; not finding her,
Pondering what happened.
Even the clouds rushed the skies for their
Nightly game of peek-a-boo with the moon’s light.
Unable to find her hidden glow, the clouds
Were reduced to indistinguishable obscurity.
As slowly as she disappeared, though,
The moon peered ever so slightly
From behind the shroud. As deliberately
As Earth’s shadow hid her Luna,
She gently shifted, graciously exposing
A sliver of moonlight. The slice of brilliance
Gradually widening revealed a radiance brighter
Than the nighttime remembered.
Just as there are darker darks than the night sky ever
Knew before the eclipse, there are also brighter lights
Before unseen, eager to be revealed, silently beckoning us
To hold on through our darkest moments.
~ Pam Reeves
Pam Reeves, an active member of Writers of Kern (WoK), writes memoir and non-fiction and dabbles at poetry. She has been published in The Edge Holistic magazine and WoK’s 2018 Anthology, Reaching for the Sky. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.