Perigee

Rising, golden through the trees: the moon.
A bride revealing herself slowly, shy, peeking.
We stand and
we stare. Like children,
we are moonstruck,
never having seen
something so magical before.


Remember that,
people still cry, fight, die, shun, include, live, breathe, exclude.

All these same old battles return to us again and again.
this never ends, this longing to know, to feel, to share.


The moon again reminds us that we are
only this,
small, we are only ending, finite.
And yet, we are always here.


We can see each other, sometimes, but not touch, not know.


And we envy the moon.


KAW may 12