The moon is hanging, behind the trees
A victim of the wooden gallows.
It was convicted and sentenced
Based on the hearsay
Of the broken hearted;
Singular lovers,
Surrounded by the coldest
Of their kind,
Pulling up their collars.
The moon eclipsed into a promise ring
When the soldiers went to battle.
Leaving their hearts folded as little poems,
Into the palms of the gentle wavers
Of good luck and goodbyes.
Those ladies of peace,
Who had already began
To rip their dresses
For bandages.
A few laid drops of perfume
Upon these cloth photographies
And rushed them into the hands
Of any soldier pushing by.
And I got yours, Fahan.
A promise to think of you
When the moon is rising
On the other, wrongful side.
Enemy is the most wrong of words.
They neither know what this satisfies.
A faraway pope points his scepter
And we fall like extra grapes,
When the bunches are tossed
Into Lucifer’s mouth.
I thought of you, Fahan
And your torn dress.
And your hair scattering like robins
With the winds of war.
And your once white bonnet
Failing you so.
I took that year to fall
In love with you,
And the entirety of everything
I created about you.
For all I had was a once
Glimpse of your eyes.
And your fingers blessing mine,
For an instant, granting me life
After these coming dead years.
Six months of rain before things
Were dry enough to write to you.
With an officer’s stolen pen
And the brown blankness
Of a ration box.
The grandest of wishes
Went into your simple address;
To Fahan, of Sligo.
May you get this
When the moon is brightest.
I had no lighter paper but
You can make out the words
By the eagerness of a candle.
How your return note found me;
The gods drop cupids
As cherubs and apples at times,
When mortals run out of belief
In miracles.
I twisted strings from hay
And said a prayer as I lit
My mantis torch
To read your vow;
“I will come by sail
With my small boat.
Have your oar
When the ocean seems
Most silent. Yet
I assure it’s not.
It is turbulent in its undertow”.
The Finally was no castle
Barely an abandoned crate
Of a place we consummated
Our thoughts and dreams.
Our marriage had taken place
Under this shroud of mercy
For our faith in believing
Simple poems create a life.
Were you as anxious and fearful
And ready and unprepared as I.
Yet yes to everything.
Yes, to everything.
We made a bed of our worn clothes.
The smoked wool curtain of the kitchen
Was our covering, for our
All the sudden bodies.
The moon offered but
The thinnest of slivers
For our innocent sin.
Yet any guilt was scoffed,
Since no god had stopped
The sea.
Thus here, you came.
As your boat tapped
Gently against the boulders.
I opened your poem
As you read along, aloud.
Reciting every word
We had never said before
To another.
But we were fluent
And fluid
With every sound.
My Fahan, how the robins scattered your hair
No matter my gentle grasp of nature.
-Whose mother is the kind
To hush the very heavens
That throw stars at a winking moon.
I had no wounds and yet
You tore your dress again;
A remnant of our wedding.
Because this is war
And the moon is being hung
Just before dawn.
There is a glorious victor;
The sun promises splendor.
I’m not afraid, Fahan.
Our hands together hold a poem
Tightly full of promises
Of love no matter our plight.
In the end they hold hands and the fear no longer exists. This is a beautiful piece of work
How do I edit a write? Help!
And thank you Fia. I wanted to start out with something strong. I think I did anyway.
Hello Styxian,
This is a poem filled with subtle unfolding. The stanzas unfold though still maintain their mystery. Your poem is telling a story though it has many different reflections. For me it holds space for that which is able to connect. It reads like it is about connection though most of all with the parts of ourself that are withered and worn. In many ways your poem also reminded me of some of the myths about Sol and Mani, sun and moon. Anyways I enjoyed the read!
Greetings and blessings
Mo
Hey you!
It’s actually an age old theme, about how soldiers go off to fight and how important the letters from home, and from their lovers, are. It gets them through the tough parts .
Nowadays staying in touch is instant of course. But back in the day, letters were anticipating finding gold.
This almost made me cry. Very evocative, excellent imagery, it transported me there.
No tears today!
I need to edit this one. It needs tweaking.
Yet I thank you, Indie. For the encouragement.
I’m still trying to get my writing skills top notch. It never ends though huh.
Well done Styx…
Hey you.
Thanks a bunch. Good to see you here too!
Beautifully penned, Mark. A great read my friend. So glad to see you here. Appreciate you.
Damian
Well I replied earlier but it ain’t showing. Grrrr.
Anyway, how are you Damain?!
I thank you very much. This write was to get my foot in the door. Lol.
I plan on being more active hopefully soon. And I’m looking forward to catching up with your contributions.
This is a new read for me. Love against all odds.
Truly an epic love journey.
It’s the one thing that withstands the test time if you’re lucky.
What a great way to end my evening:)
Hey hot stuff!
Smooch!
A hauntingly beautiful elegy of love and war. This poem folds devotion and devastation into one breath.
I love how the moon becomes witness, both executioner and promise, while the language blurs history and intimacy into something timeless.
The tenderness feels earned, sacred even, amid the ruin.
The moon being involved in love stories and poems etc is perhaps cliche’ by now. Yet, it is such a motivator with its presence.
Although I am ex military, I prefer to write of kinder things usually. The things that will save our souls perhaps. Hope, etc.
Thank you very much for going back to this one. It’s always been one of my favs of my own. It needs some work, but I do like it.