“I see the moon, the moon sees me
The moon sees somebody I want to see
God bless the moon and God bless me
And God bless the somebody I want to see.”
Jim Brickman
She claimed me on a beach so very long ago. Not my beach, but one that I walked upon for a very short time and the one she brought me back to now. The night was clear and cool, the moon, full, and we walked along the beach, my partner and I, where the waves struggled to reach us. I began to feel the presence of someone behind me, following me. This presence. It felt nearer and heavier, but not threatening. Just unfamiliar. And then it was right up against my back. I turned abruptly to see who it might be, but there was no one there. And then he turned towards me, with an odd expression, and asked me what was wrong. “ I thought I felt someone behind me,” I answered, and left it at that. He did not pursue it further and we turned and continued on our way.
I am usually very sensitive to others around me; I feel them coming more before I see them. But now, I wasn’t sure what I had felt and for a few moments I questioned myself; what had I felt, what or who was it? But then I was interrupted, pulled out of my preoccupation. It was there once more, that presence, that someone, more like something. Maybe?
It was back and it was stronger and I continued walking, face forward, not giving anything away less I disturb my partner for a second time. And now I was in this presence, in this energy, in this fullness. It had to be someone. It sort of felt like someone, someone treading close behind. Coming closer. And I continued, losing sight of what lay in front of me, for all of my senses had been drawn behind. And then whoever it was fully embraced me and at that very moment, I knew. Knew beyond reason. Knew it was her and I did not have to turn around and look behind. Instead I raised my eyes to the sky where she sat, and saw her watching me; the dark mother, my sister moon.
I matched her gaze with mine and surrendered, without knowing that I did, but did nonetheless. And she would continue, from that time forward, to follow me, watch over me, always pulling my gaze up to meet hers, wherever I went and wherever she sat, letting me know that she was there. I used her ethereal light to illuminate my path within and the one that I would walk on in darkness. For many years I had been lost and adrift in this world and she would come at the most critical times, as a mother would, and bathe my fears in her light, drowning out the demons and wrapping herself around me, just close enough to be felt. Comfort, protection and disguise is what she provided, so that when I took up again, I would be able to see my way against the night but the night would not see me.
And now, I am back. Back where she had claimed me so many years ago, and on this particular night of which I speak, she wore a beautiful bright halo. While I was admiring her, our eyes met, and I began to speak to her of a love lost. Perhaps he was looking into the same sky, looking at her and she, shining her light on him, as well. Perhaps she was the connection that still tethered us together, unforeseen; me on one side of the night and him on the other. And I asked if she would please bring him this message, for I could not tell him myself, borne out of respect for a choice made so many years before. I gave her the words to bring to him, words from my heart and deep within my soul. Words left unspoken that needed to be said. And I left this with her, with her magic, with her power. I left this with her and the cover of darkness, trusting that he would receive it.
The new day emerged fresh and clean. I had much to get done. And so I began the chores I had set in my mind for that day. It was now mid afternoon, I had accomplished much and was now sitting on the lounge in my art room, going through old sketch pads and pictures. And out of the silence, I heard from behind me, a notification. For a brief moment, I wondered who it may be but did not turn around to see. Not for a bit of time, anyway. I was busy finishing the work at hand. And when I had finished, I turned to pick up my phone and opened the screen. I sat, quiet and still, not reading the message, but just looking at his name.
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