The moon...She IS

the female moon

I was wondering today
why the sun is called a he
and the moon is called a she.

Maybe it’s because
its female energy
mirrors those I’ve loved,
reflecting what they burn
and what they break.

Maybe it’s because
the moon holds more gravity
in my chest than any star,
tugging at the tides
of my blood and memory.

Maybe it’s because
she shines the hardest
when everything goes black,
when the room is empty,
when I’m too tired to pray
but too awake to sleep.

Maybe it’s that
she has the quiet power
to guide the lost—
drunks on sidewalks,
widows at windows,
men who swear they’re fine
with shaking hands,
and me,
tracing my reflection
in the kitchen window at 3 a.m.

Perhaps it’s because
when the moon is full
she drags the truth out of me,
pulls at the animal in my bones,
and drives my careful mind
to the edge of lunacy—
a little closer
to who I really am
when no one is watching.

And maybe she stays
so I remember
even in the dark,
I am not alone...