moons blood

By Naomi McPeters

I remember the first time I saw the moon turn to red

I was nine and staring at the sky with awe-struck wonder

With my brothers and sister beside me I was inspired,

But I wasn't really listening.

I wrote a verse, afterward, but it wasn't much

That was the first time in my life I can remember being touched

By beauty


They surrounded me

My loves

Wasn't that enough?

A good remembrance...innocence... (what is that?)


Creation in all its glory

Shrouded in darkness but for one crimson eye staring back

As I gaze upon it

Voices shattering the walls of the house behind me

They can't find me.

I hate the moon for watching me as I try to slip away

I wish I could just disappear as quickly as I first came

My shadow, I want to believe is etched upon its face

My shadow, from galaxies and light years away

Doesn't make the slightest imprint from where I stand

Must it?

Insignificant and small I seem

That's ok with me…

I don't need to put myself there

I can stand here small as an ant in comparison

And still be free

I don't need to align myself with some grand purpose or thing

The blood of the martyrs, the children, the immigrants, the kings,

Flows from the heavens and to my soul they scream

Shouting from the red-tinged moon staring down at me

Imagine if I walked away from them now,


I don't need to stand here and bleed

Wishing my suffering had some place in the universe's grand scheme,

Of things, had some meaning

I don't, because most times, it doesn't

Why wish it?

Would it change my pain, the fact that it lies on the storyline of time?

Or like nature, ebbing and flowing like the tide

--The Moon still abides--

For no other reason than that it has to…

Or is it like the eclipse of the moon,

Where earth's shadow falls on the very thing meant to light up our world

--I promise you I'm listening--

Shadows fall, even on the brightest light in the darkness

Does the moon ask why, or does it just shine in all its splendor?

Covered in blood though it be we still gaze upon it in wonder

Does the moon ever question the heavens of its sorrow

Or does it accept that the light will return to it tomorrow?

No room for despair…

Did anyone ever ask the moon if it suffers

In those hours when suffocated by the earth's shadow?

I remember the first time I saw the moon turn crimson

Tonight, the spectacle was no different,

But tonight, tonight, I listened

Tonight, I was alone, drenched in unspoken sorrow for the Moon,

As the whole world took pictures of its suffering...

The girl standing beside me that first night

Had witnessed the horrors of too much death with too young eyes

To see beauty in a moon

As red as the blood dripping down her mother's face

When she, too, was just nine years old

She wasn't listening. She couldn't listen

I'm so sorry, sister, that I didn't know

But tonight the Moon speaks to me of your suffering

Even now, it's so great that I can't touch it

You live in the shadows, forever blocking the sunlight's reflection

I still sorrow over your unspoken suffering

I still hear the screams of those others dying in darkness

Those that cannot fathom, cannot remember what true light is,

I can still see the aching of the whole human race

Occasionally reflected on this ghostly midnight face

As a reminder to be still in this moment of pain

To be still, no matter how grand this moment may seem

I promise you, red moon--blood moon,

That tonight, I am listening.