The Promise and the Memory

July 28, 2007 § Leave a comment

There is a name for that thing
that is both practical and perilous,
beautiful and treacherous,
comforting and poisonous.

Today I am a moth, having
the hardest time discerning
the moon from near
a thousand candle flames.

Now, I mustn’t blame the flame.
I can just realign my instincts,
look deeper than the glow,
trust the part of me that knows

not to fear the haunting shimmer
but recall with love the moon.
Though my wings are singed and tattered,

somewhere tonight,
there is a light that will lead me home.

November 2006

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