Moon – Da Capo al Poetry

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The restless city knew no sleep,
For it had known a three-month slumber,
And now its people wanted to feel
Alive. But with no sense of wonder.

Only the very few who’d learned
What it had meant to have less freedom
Had come to cherish each new day
With all its sunsets and beginnings.

And thus, the busy, crowded streets
Were no place for the tiny beings.
No, they were to be found up there,
On slender telephone lines, dreaming.

Dangling their feet above concrete,
Their eyes glued to the pearlescent symbol
Of Hope amidst the worst of times,
Eyes glued to one celestial being.

The crescent moon was their escape
From endless suffering and trials.
When nightfall came, they hopped up there
On slender telephone lines, sighing.

Fixing their gaze upon their Hope,
They wished the sand would stop its trickling…
For one night only… Maybe more…
The hectic world had left them weary…

How fine would then be everything…!
If they could dream and drink in magic…
If they could have the time to breathe
And get back to their truest selves and…

For now, one night was just enough…
The tiny people kept on gazing.
The chirping crickets, the linden trees…
Oh, it was June! And they kept on dreaming…

– Patricia

Whispers in the Wind

I first heard them when it was night
And I’d grown weary of the struggles,
And just when I’d given up the fight,
I heard a whisper like no other.

Melodious and tender words
Made their way through the endless darkness,
Caressed my ears and I immersed
Myself in their most calming promise.

The winter wind had brought them here
And carried them on wings of stardust.
The moon had gifted them with light
To soothe and ease the soul till sunrise.

And in the peaceful winter night,
I knew I’d found my peace, my freedom.
I rose my eyes and saw the moon
So quiet and serene in her kingdom.

And in the darkness of the night,
I only heard the soothing whispers,
I only saw the phantasmal light
Of She who’d sent me peace in winter…

– Patricia

Moonchild

Silky moonlight lights my bedroom,
Bathing me in promises.
I hear stories that I’d once known
Once again—I stand still and
Let the stillness of the night in.
Quiet my heart cherishes.

Nothing moves. My fingers linger
On the cold, white windowsill,
As I look up at the night sky,
Breathing in the summer air,
Listening to the waves crashing
Against rocks. All so surreal.

In this moment, I am happy,
I can feel the Universe,
I see starlight, stardust, magic,
Falling stars and galaxies.
Time slows down. And, in the distance,
I hear whispers: “Moonchild, come…!”

– Patricia