Eclipse

The world itself is wide open
like the arms of light
peering through the trees
onto her upturned face

tipped back to watch the moon
become eclipsed in that wide
open space that is the world
too big for any one of us

to encompass with our arms
small enough for hope
to flounder in the mind
meanwhile that full moon

glowing with hope slowly
succumbs to the red hue
of solid, real earth blocking
its sun, she stands staring

knowing, feeling this erasure
was coming so she pushed
hard to give birth to the truth
as painful as a baby sometimes

words of ending eclipse
all sweet endearments
she stands with the world arcing wide
around her, watching as arms
of light disappear, hope extinguished.

We cannot know the cycle of why
things come and go, are light then dark,
joy then sorrow, feeling to indifference.
Now light moves away, brightening

the sky in some other part
of the world, some other face
while she stands alone, her spirit
not enough to touch his world anymore.

What is real? Earth or light?
Both, though light always succumbs
to the rich blackness of earth
tilting on its axis, beckoning.