Shadows Under Moons

I’ve been walking through red forests
where desperate winds blow
against my every step,
trying to force me off the path. 

The moons float far above the trees
and the night weighs on my shoulders.
The trees begin to crumble right before my very eyes
and the moons don’t say a word, too far away, too high.

The night keeps pressing on my shoulders.
The trees keep crumbling to the ground.

Why do I care about the moons so high?

Why should I care about a moon-soaked sky
when I’m standing on loose soil
in the shadows of red trees
that shroud me from light mystery?

I’m thinking how the stars that you have stolen
for your eyes, your mouth, your smile
no longer work to give you face
but have begun to melt you in your place.

Yes, I’m still standing here
in the shadows of red trees;
in the white-hot glow of your night eyes
dreaming how this comes to be.

Shadows Under Moons

20 thoughts on “Shadows Under Moons

  1. *Currently Untitled*

    In the shadows of the trees,
    A hand reached out to me—
    I was looking northward
    where there was a raindrop party—
    In the lack of lights from which a woman had taken
    to make up her face,

    I found the red trees I lounged beneath
    vigorous, ready to spark, unprovoked.
    Not all those who are lost wander…

    and I did not look up high enough to see the moon
    when my love just then descended so near to me
    with a kiss so red of heaven, a touch firm and pure—
    And then a sweeping caress—
    Not all those who are lost wander
    and not all those who lose themselves are lost.

    —Jade Nicole Beals
    Apr. 6 ’22

    (My poem reply to this :), another new poem to submit)

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Hey, homegirl! Still here. Had a nice vacation at the beginning of April and now just working on some non-blogging projects (both for fun and for real work)! Hope things are rocking and rolling on your side of the proverbial pond. Cheers!

      Liked by 2 people

    1. There is a season for everything and unto everything a season, a season for magic and a season for sun, a season for works and a season for poetries, and a season for what seasons may spring up under the sun, for whenceforth came jdoublep so returneth jdoublep in due timeth of poetries. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

Sock it to me

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s