The Last Hour of Darkness

When the moon fell,
There was chaos in the black world.
The people’s eyes shone wonder
And reflected the light of far away.
They had locked themselves at home,
Unwilling to face the great moon-globe
Teetering on the horizon.
And it fell.
I closed my lids against the end of time.
Surely that’s what this was—
Surely that’s how the Earth would die.

When the moon fell
It left shattered stars in its wake.
People around me sniffled and shook
And clutched old photographs
In hands that became like the elderly.
They were afraid of looking out
At the houses all lit with moon-glow.
The moon was shining
Rudely into my face
But I shut it off and out
Because I was only trying to sleep.

When the moon fell
I shivered softly in my bed, dreaming.
It was like a trickle of water down my cheek.
Then the sun rose
And the houses caught fire with the dawn.
Everyone breathed, red-faced and relieved.
They opened their doors to let in the future.
And they went out to work.

Perhaps the Earth had died that night
When the moon fell.
That trickle of dream I felt
Might have meant more than tears.
Maybe I slipped through one end of time
And came out on the other,
Where people still live like the young
And photographs sit dusting on shelves.

If I’m far away from that old world,
I don’t want to go back.
Here at this end it’s much easier to sleep.
And I’m tired.