When You Turn Your Back To The Moon

I think the light loves you

How it kisses your forehead

Like a mother does her baby

And how it cradles your head

Rather than haloing it

But then again

I can never be too sure

Because when you turn your back to the moon

Your silhouette soaks up the dark

Like a desk blotter ingests India ink

And the infinite shades of shadows that grip the landscape

Accept you as their own

And I wonder in that moment

If you were actually born of Nyx

But somehow misplaced in the arms of Hemera

And that you’ve been seeking the root of your life-long confusion

So once able

You fled for the realm of inconsequential humans

I wonder this and many other dreams

When you turn your back to the sun

Occulting the light with your impenetrable umbra

Giving me no choice

But to divert my eyes

From your uncommon beauty

E.A. O'Connell