To Love My Mystery

January 31, 2018

 

 
I've met many a fool, said the moon, who loved me full.
It's another thing to love my mystery. 
I'm as present in my waxes and wanes
as when I light up the whole sky.
And even when the sky appears dark, 
no trace of me in the waters, 
I never disappear from myself. 
I met a stargazer once who knew that. 
He never asked after the peculiarity of my phases. 
And when I disappeared from sight,
as I often had to,
He set a cup on his porch
and caught the starlight
that belonged to everyone,
the same that is mine. 
Sometimes, 
when I was thirsty,
I asked him for a drink,
if only to know what it was 
to drink from myself,
refracted star water and all.

(Aimee Hansen)

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