Moonlight

By Cailin Powney

Sometimes, when I’m sad, I watch the sun. I watch her cover trees with her warmth, bringing colour into the world. I watch the way people’s smiles light up in her embrace, the golden glow reflecting in the sparkles of their eyes. I watch as she rises, her hypnotic flame igniting something inside of me, a drive, a purpose. I then watch as she sets, my hopes going with her. The moon wakes up, glistening in the sky, a beauty that some pause to appreciate. I find myself entranced by her, stuck in her gaze, her glow pouring into me like strong liquor. The moon, however much I love her, haunts me. The night she brings with her rips into my head, and I’m left stranded in the darkness of my mind. As she rises, so do those thoughts, the ones that have me staring off into a world that doesn’t exist. 

In this reality, I’m more like the moon than I wish I were. Those who stop and stare find themselves stuck, the darkness around her becoming more apparent by the second. And as they stop, they’re met with a sense of despair, the night creeping into their soul and tearing away each shred of identity bit by bit. The stars may sparkle, but your eyes won’t as she haunts you with her problems, an everlasting feeling of dread, just to be left alone when she leaves each morning, a one-night stand of misery. And when the sun rises in the morning, you ignore her warmth. You yearn for the moon again, you yearn for her presence and the comfort of the night, when really, you’ve just become comfortable in her sadness, comfortable with her pain. The moon cannot love you, as she cannot love herself. She dawns her night’s sky with stars to seem alive, yet each is screaming down at you— “don’t listen, she’ll trap you”. And she has. Just as she’s trapped herself in an everlasting cycle of loss, chasing the sun she thinks she wants, but she will never reach. 

So, as I watch the sun blanket the world in her heat, I can’t help but think about the moon—her pale complexion burnt into my memory as the days pass by in a blur, my soul in her grasp. I find my mind losing focus on what’s important, the people, things, and experiences around me. No, I’m focusing on the pain she not only inflicts on me but also makes me inflict on others. And as each star twinkles in the distance, I can’t help but think to myself—when will that be me, warning the next person; “Don’t get lost here. There's no coming back”.

By Cailin Powney