Eight months pregnant
And two days.
The midnight bleached sky
Embraces Mother Luna.
Her babies wait in anticipation
Giggling with light
Winking in excitement.
She will bare light in her ninth round month.
People will see
Without the ability to witness the so-called truths
That humans concoct.
People will avoid ignorance stained beliefs their parent’s parents passed down
From generation 1… just for an instance, the black shade of a blink.
Luna will erase the surface reality of skin tone
And human-laced mindsets.
She will illuminate the land with a nurtured touch.
Under the fleece of midnight,
Prickly green grass subdues to fuzzy gray fur:
A peppered kitten snuggles in for a nighttime nap.
Forest dwellers prowl mutely
Glancing upwards towards the celestial scene
Catching amber reflections off their thick-pupil eyes.
Nonverbal conversation bounces to one another
like people playing with mirrors in the sunlight.
Their ears prick up as they approach a shiny metallic object.
Taking a seat under the moon shaded tree
They prepare for the midnight matinee.
Shadowed leaves rustle in the lucid night,
Sighing at the lovers touching
In the back of a ’67 Chevy.
His light hand runs down her dark cheek
Feeling his way through the soft landscape of her face
Never examining the color of her hair or skin.
Right now, they just know it feels right.
They can almost see
What they hadn’t yesterday.
They will see it tomorrow
When Mother Luna is ripe with life
And ready to dissolve human boundaries that daytime permits.
Copyright 2006 Cathy Kaplan