Under this moon
I have blood on my hands.
My own blood. My own bones
Under this lonesome moon
a friend dies
and I feel relief.
Pain dies when we do
Under this heavy moon
a tulip unfurls,
one curled petal
of deafening white
When pain appears
relief reveals itself
I release myself of guilt
for not being okay
My responsibility remains
for the things that I say
and the actions I take
under this moon
which is always full
even when we don’t see the light
Tonight
we speak through pain
I try to comfort one
who has mourned far more
than I can conceive
but I grieve too
We all do
Only a true friend
will call just to remind me
that the heart breaks
Your words sink in
like healing light
and I rejoice
under the hidden moon
I always know
where my friends are
when they answer my call
but you do not know
the relief I feel
when you howl first
Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash