If Tonight The Moon Should Arrive Like A Lost Guide Crossing The Fields With A Bitter Lantern In Her
If tonight the moon should arrive like a lost guide crossing the fields with a bitter lantern in her hand,
her irides blind, her dresses wild, lie down and listen to her find you; lie down and listen to the body become
the promise of no other, the sleeper in the garden in its own arms, the exile in its own autumnal house.
You have woken. But no one has woken. You are changed, but the light of change is bitter, the changing
is the threshold into winter. Traveler, rememberer, sleeper, tonight, as you slumber where the dead are, if the moon’s hands
should discover you through fire, lie down and listen to her hold you, the moon who has been away
so long now, the lost moon with her silver lips and whisper, her body half in winter,
half in wool. Look at her, look at her, that drifter. And if no one, if nothing comes to know you, if no song
comes to prove it isn’t over, tell yourself, in the moon’s arms, she is no one; tell yourself, as you lose
love, it is after, that you alone are the bearer in that changed place, you alone who have woken, and have
opened, you alone who can so love what you are now and the vanishing that carries it away.
More Posts from Aquueerius and Others
after not sewing much in ??? months, i finally broke my dryspell
*finger guns into your ask box*
👉👉 (i almost never see asks! send me messages instead 😅😧)
this is probably a longshot but recently I read a poem titled something like “the last thing she sees”……. and its like. from the perspective of a bird on a birdfeeder in someones yard… and the bird is the last thing that sees the person alive before they pass away / the last thing the person sees but obviously the bird has no way of knowing that. anwyays like. i have been thinking about it for two days straight but like a fool i neglected to save it and so now here i am on tumblr dot com asking if youve heard of this poem
Bibi Zogbé (Labibé Zogbé, Lebanese artist known as the painter of flowers, emigrated to Argentina at the age of sixteen, 1890-1973). Oil on canvas.
Barn quilts near Coon Rapids, Iowa (northwest Guthrie County)
top 10 photos taken hours before a tragic ending
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if this blog likes or follows you, it's me at assignedcatholicatbirth.tumblr not much else to say here, this used to be an arts blog
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