On a full moon night
near the solstice,
there was no gentle way
to be honest
under the naturally blue light.
I have long said,
everything travels in waves,
like this; light, sound, heat, idea,
emotion, news and aromas.
It made me angry
to remember
standing there.
He said I should do it,
for the money, for some sense
of justice
I ought to
make an effort,
as if it were worth going
backward.
There is no gold in those hills
waiting for me,
He disagrees.
For now, I tell him
I am still too busy.
And he knows how cold it is already
and knows it is too cruel to drop more
on me.
I reminisce how
many moons ago
I dreamt myself right here,
and never needed to remember
how it all happened.
Honestly, there is nothing left there
of value
for me.
I know I will have to go
back there, as the only child, the only one
who will-
It will cost them
only a little peace
when all has been
said and nothing done.
You left part of you
exposed there and turning blue
waiting for you to finally go back
and bury the body
deep in the hills
like treasures of the past.
We finally agreed,
a wave of relief washed over us both
Not Now-
in due time
it will come needing me
and my cold-hearted honesty
in the full moonlight.
Painting by Ilya Repin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
