Lunar Liturgy

I'm the Moon..;)

There hung languid thoughts

toward borrowed light.

My shawl dipped in the Red Sea

draped on the tranquility.

 

Above all breathable air,

a distant prayer wrapped

around your cold shoulder.

I stood under the moon of tides.

 

You buoy on the ocean of thin air

and wash out the twinkled little stars.

I threw you thankfulness

and the tassels ricocheted to the sun.

 

Come now moon with your sideways smile

and reflect my prayers like flares.

Send them to the burning and shining

and I will kneel here until morning.

*

“I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous,

your handmade sky-jewelry,

Moon and stars mounted in their settings.

Then I look at my micro-self and wonder,

Why do you bother with us?

Why take a second look our way?

Yet we’ve so narrowly missed being gods,

bright with Eden’s dawn light.”

Psalms 8:3-5 The Message

It was either C. S. Lewis or G. K. Chesterton who got me thinking about orbital metaphors such as the sun and the moon. For years now I have labeled the two spheres as representative of God and mankind. The sun the source of light and energy and the moon a receiver and reflector of light and energy. Now that the days shorten I find myself delivering in the early night with the moon glow drawing me to look up. How does it just hang there with no apparent strings attached? This morning I woke up to a moonset. Beautiful and poignant in its muted descent, I felt nicely small. All these issues and dramas in my micro existence are thrown up to orbit as prayers with the moon like a shawl. The goings on down here in this fractal earth try to find some peace in the sea of tranquility. That’s not enough. Even the moon knows its orbit around our sphere is subject to orbit around the sun.

 

The last verse of Psalm 8 confirms ultimate source.

 

“God, brilliant Lord, your name echoes around the world.”

 

The Lord’s mercies are new every morning says the writer of Lamentations. Could his lament have ricocheted off the moonlight to the coming Bright and Morning Star?

https://i1.wp.com/img.photobucket.com/albums/v517/triplegoojoob/scenic%20images/sunrise.jpg

Emily Woke Me. The moon and stars were still awake.

Emily woke me at 1:12.

She walked the line

from her bed to mine

and I tucked her one more time.

 

At 1:17 I saw the moon

in the western sky

a sweet potato pie.

Once slice, low upon a rhyme.

 

A dipper as big as forever

over my head like a caption.

Stars were a splashin’

into my soul and onto the pines.

 

1:34 was when I lay me down again.

Goodnight moon was all I said.

I prayed twinkled stars on her head.

So thankful for how she shines.

 

Triple Play. I think I missed an eclipse. Three poems on what happened when I wasn’t looking.

“A total lunar eclipse occurs when the Earth passes between the sun and the moon, throwing the moon into shadow.” Space.com

*

Landing a Lunar Pitch

 

The moon and its seams

settled in my split fingers.

I will throw it into a shadow.

 

I have to toss it fast alright,

the earth and the sun are in rare form

so timing is everything.

 

The Umpire set a thin strike zone.

The catcher suggested this pitch

and I tipped my hat.

 

But where is the batter?

Is he outside of the shadow box?

I picked up the rosin bag and wondered.

*

“May I cut in?” Earth

 

That is double dip darkness.

The moon emits no inner light,

then the earth cuts in line.

 

The shadow of humankind

cast across emptiness

to the man on the moon.

*

Crayons

 

The yellow sun

and the green earth

birthed a blue moon.

 

 

“Every good gift and every perfect (free, large, full) gift is from above; it comes down from the Father of all [that gives] light, in [the shining of] Whom there can be no variation [rising or setting] or shadow cast by His turning [as in an eclipse].  James 1:17 The Amplified New Testament

And God Created Metaphors for Children–And Adults Can Tag Along.

Could the moon be a peep-hole?

Could the sun be a spot light?

Could the stars be pinpricks of the eternal?

 

Could the ocean be shedding tears?

Could the tides be inflections in a voice?

Could the waves be ballroom dancing?

 

Could the mountains be a la mode?

Could the foothills be out for a stroll?

Could the valleys be hoarding  echoes?

 

Could I tag along child, and wonder around with you?

Could you share your imagination with me?

Could we see if God brought something for show and tell?

Monday Mourning, After the Sun Went Down.

It is another Monday.

Most of the out-of-towners

have gone back to their life.

 

My son and I watched

a blood orange sun

disappear beyond the edge

of the earth.

Near the end

it appeared bigger

and sunk faster.

 

It was like the death

of my mother.

At the end we stared.

We counted her

freckles and wrinkles

and the rise and fall of her chest.

 

At the time it seemed like eternity,

but now the memory is a short journal entry.

It is like taking out a granite tablet

and jotting down her life in a sentence.

 

The beauty was fleeting

and we wanted to touch it.

There was once a big moon

as big as a get-well balloon.

There was a big sun

as big as a farewell.

 

© Gerald Allen Barrett and parentheticallyspeakingin3d, 2012.

Saddle Light

It was riding the trail of early morning glow.

Hanging ‘round, low and quiet-like

with just enough belly light east.

A crescent pulling on a sunrise

as if it was one of the earthly tides.

 

It’s a nighttime circuit rider

preaching to the dark side of our circle.

It will pull on the thought waves

and push them onto the shore

like grains of stardust.

 

It reminded me that humility

is a slow steady moon walk.

 

“Walk on.”