In Moon’s Music

Whisper me out of this corner
or come,
come find me in the shadow
of some long gone judgement,
weaving threads from my filth,
linking light and dark,
in a grateful design knowing,
pulsing a pattern here of
my best worst
and cursing the idea,
the reality,
the haunt
of shame.

Too much wanting goodness
for far long…
now these shadow threads
sing me more softly,
deeply,
weaving richer hues of being,
of leaning, needing, longing.

No longer enslaved to
the perpetual denial,
suppression,
hiding of these
unsightly finds
supreme.

Don’t you know they make me,
break me out of spotlight
casting shadows more wicked,
in their pretending honor,
their alleged salvation?

Here, I am. Singing songs
in moon’s music, humming silence
in the glare of sight,
digging deep this dirt delight,
growing flowers fed on dew
and dancers’ rain,
rain,
rain…

kiss of a haunting love.

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