The hour before dawn--when hearts are uncertain about the new day, humanity shows itself. |
When the moon fell, There was chaos in the black world. The people’s eyes shone wonder And reflected the light of far away. They had locked themselves at home, Unwilling to face the great moon-globe Teetering on the horizon. And it fell. I closed my lids against the end of time. Surely that’s what this was— Surely that’s how the Earth would die. When the moon fell It left shattered stars in its wake. People around me sniffled and shook And clutched old photographs In hands that became like the elderly. They were afraid of looking out At the houses all lit with moon-glow. The moon was shining Rudely into my face But I shut it off and out Because I was only trying to sleep. When the moon fell I shivered softly in my bed, dreaming. It was like a trickle of water down my cheek. Then the sun rose And the houses caught fire with the dawn. Everyone breathed, red-faced and relieved. They opened their doors to let in the future. And they went out to work. Perhaps the Earth had died that night When the moon fell. That trickle of dream I felt Might have meant more than tears. Maybe I slipped through one end of time And came out on the other, Where people still live like the young And photographs sit dusting on shelves. If I’m far away from that old world, I don’t want to go back. Here at this end it’s much easier to sleep. And I’m tired. |