[Sonora]
SECTION THREE: the moon that follows
The moon will find a way into your heart, you just have to believe in it.
Well, I did believe. I believed and believed against hope, and hadn’t the moon delivered on her promises. She filled our kitchen with silver light to dance by, illuminating your beautiful face from two hundred thousand miles away, and I asked her every night to keep you safe. Now, I walk back the way I’ve walked a thousand times before, and feel heavy like the weight of that big rock up there has come crashing out of the sky and landed right on my chest.
“How can we pause the needle of time..”
The question beeps through my head like the beeping of the deadly machine, my skin feels cold like the blue gown Isaw you in last, and I know that tonight will be the last time I see you here, knowing that you’ve already been gone for a while. I wish I could be a timekeeper for just a day and change this misty nightmare into a silver dream. Instead, I walk along the sidewalk towards a yellow house that seems to mock me with its joy now.
“Remember when you were a kid and the moon followed you?”
That’s what she asked me the first night we met, laughing in the heat of June, and she had that yellow sundress on, stained with summer sweat and a little drip from the popsicle we’d shared earlier. I thought of course I remembered. How could you forget that silly little moon in the sky of your youth that illuminated your nights and played a continuous game of chase with you as you walked through your nighttime neighbourhood. What child in the night did not stop to take notice of her, bathing everyday things in silver dust to make nighttime metallic and strange.
And I think that we followed one another the same way the moon follows. When night seemed evil and all too big, the moon was there for us, and when life seemed to taste bitter on our tongues, bitter as the mole your mother makes on Sunday nights, we were there for each other to add a little sweetness.
The moon will find a way into your heart, if you believe in it.
And, yes, the moon is still in orbit, not really with me, not fallen heavy on my chest. It’s up there far far away, so maybe you were wrong and the moon won’t find me. Maybe we were both wrong and the moon doesn’t follow us, but she is always there. In the morning when I cannot see her, she is there. In the orange dusk that coats my skin in yellow light the same way you seemed to do, I’ll know she is coming. Maybe, it’s much the same with people. She could turn a rock into a poem, so I will turn it into a beacon, and it will always lead me back to her every day.
* * *
[Lyndsie]
SECTION FOUR: legends of the moon
As children, we do not know the difference between the moon, stars, or any celestial beings. We just are amazed as we travel in the back seat of a caravan through a cloudless night.
Maybe my wonder of the night sky came from my mom who took me on drives to put me to sleep. I kept my eyes fixed on the still stars, while wishing for childish things that never came true. I’d mumble something about wishing the stars could hear me, answer me, flash in knowing my secrets. Mom would ask me what I was saying. But I couldn’t tell her, because legends state that wishes must be kept quiet or they won’t come true.
“Just singing,” I lied.
Soon, dizzy from the motion of the van, I would drift asleep with some level of hope, candy coating my dreams.
The moon is not a revolving star, it revolves and shines from the wishes it carries.
***
As children, we believe the sun and moon are opposites. But when the moon shows itself in the middle of a hot summer day, we notice.
We noticed in the middle of running through the sprinklers. Dad had set them out on an even numbered day, even though our house number was odd. Drought was a new word but we didn’t really mind the heat, as long as we could run in the water in the backyard. Then we’d notice the moon, almost camouflaged as a tiny cloud. Legends of unnatural or hellish origins feed into this anomaly: “It means the devil is beating his wife.”
But soon, that local star was too close to our sensitive skin and we could stand still anymore. So we kept running through the water, until Dad cut us off.
The moon runs with you everywhere you go, yet you are worried it will change.
***
As children, we collect memories by the moonlight.
Like first kisses in the middle of nowhere. The only light on his face includes his car’s green interior lights and the reflection of the headlamps. When we come to our spot, these lights disappear. Outlines are all we can find. We connect in this way and do not let go.
He whispers, “I love you.”
And I desperately tried to remember every part of this moment, including the uncomfortable seat covers itching on my short-wearing thighs.
But I couldn’t remember every detail, because I was too busy replying. Too busy believing that this was going to last forever. Wishing on the distant stars on a full moon night that it could last.
But soon I was collecting another boy’s kisses, another vision of an outline. Believing this one was the one that would last. Because legends state full moons make you crazy. I’m still crazy for outlines.
The moon will find a way to your heart, you have to believe in it.
Special Edition. Contributers’ Compilation
Painting by. Aleksandra Waliszewska