In the Penumbra
The last oblique rays of the setting sun—
cooled from white to red—
extended our shadows eastward to the horizon
where the moon would rise full in Earth’s shade,
shrouded in cloud from behind a stand of pines.
We waited.
At a moment indistinct, dim luminescence
emerged from mist in deepening darkness,
cloaked in red, refracted light.
Despite rational explanations
pronounced by agents of calculating science,
we watched enthralled,
as when desire colors love
and makes sense all in all.
The moon maintained her precise celestial ascent,
our astronomer remarking casually how
this same obscuring alignment illuminated
Jerusalem incarnadine in the last year of our Lord.
How then souls trembled
(while others slept)
until white light crept across the airless seas
and, reflected, reclaimed the vacant streets.
Our moon, too, recaptured her brilliance
and leered unphased upon our departure,
knowing that faith will be shaken
and covenant vows broken
in our confusion of the sterile and the pure.
As darkness and light, love and passion
remain inextricably and eternally linked
in the penumbra.
