When She Rises
You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.
That day, the moon, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.
For the spaces in between dark and light, and for those of us in love with the moon, who harken when we hear the melodious murmur of her call.