I can lie awake yet again and climb out my window and watch stars and satellites and rain drops slide down my nose. But the moon has been gone for three days now and it has left me cold. It grew large and yellow and halos flocked around it, round circles of light so in awe of this disc that floats that they kept their distance, surrounded it and silently oohed and ahhed. But then it disappeared and I couldn’t find it. Nothing dramatic, no eclipse watched by the world and planned by the universe weeks beforehand. Just nothing between the clouds suddenly. Everyone laughed, some helped me look, most didn’t notice and carried on watching the television. But that flat screen with its constant words and pictures and laughter from cans cannot make me forget that my night sky is emptier. The tides are still rushing in and out of the sea-bound river, dogs and people are still howling, the bright gaudy sun shows up in the morning and doesn’t mention its neighbour’s disappearance. But the sun never liked my memories of silver moonshine and is keeping quiet so I’ll give up and forget. I won’t forget you but I’ll be patient. I don’t know where you are or why you decided to leave but I will wait. I won’t make any more night-time confessions, I won’t trace constellations on my steamed up window, I won’t talk about your shimmering liquid paths of light in my life. I won’t do anything until you come back. You always followed my steps in darkness so I won’t abandon you now, I will look east and west and ignore the stars until you journey home.
Created: Apr 05, 2010Document Media