Apr 172013

by Shirley Russak Wachtel


When we could no longer endure the oppressing darkness

the monotonous drone of the newscaster on the radio

we opened the shade even though

it was already past 9.

No hope of a welcoming sun for many hours yet.

And then we saw it

shining white like New Year’s Eve

the house next door.

Someone said it must be a generator

or maybe a lone explorer,

massive flashlight in hand.

But already one of us had ventured outdoors, beckoning the others.

“Look—a moon—a full moon.”

We stood then for several minutes outside the door

looking up at it

White and Full and Light.

And we breathed the moon that evening

like it was the air itself.

After a night of destruction

of floods washing the earth

and fire splitting the sky,

our curses were finally silenced.

For we loved the moon that night.