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Dark Moon Rising
We think the moon comes and goes
But it is always watching us—at night,
As the stars weave webs of mystery.
Sometimes, it illuminates, other times
It shadows us in darkness,
But it never fails to see—
Things we hide from in daylight.
The rotting flesh of the battlefield dead,
The last touch of failed love.
The despair of a hungry mother with kids,
The troubled dreams of anger and fear,
The anxiety of the sleepless,
The fears of the daemon possessed.
All these dark threads woven with starlight
And moon light into a tapestry—
Waiting for the dawn.
(This poem appeard in the 2022 edition of Haight Ashbury Literary Journal)