East-West Moon
By Michele Wick
Email: m.wick at verizon dot net
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June 21, 2008
The moon is a sliver of shadow and shimmer
hung on a black velvet sky.
From its zenith it peers
o'er a welter of tears
for the soldiers whose days have gone by.
The mothers they cry for their babies have died
and the fathers heave dry as a stone.
The brothers lament,
while their sisters are spent
of the laughter they once called their own...
Yellow ribbons wrap trees
from the plains to the seas
but the oaks whisper lingering doubt.
Why did we go?
Who else will lay low?
And how will we ever get out?
As the moon fades to gray,
and veils our dismay,
it ascends in a far eastern sky.
From its zenith it peers
o'er a welter of tears
for the soldiers whose days have gone by.
About the author:
I am a psychologist, writer, mother of 2 (a 14 year old rock star and 19 year old future fashionista). I have taught in the psychology department at Smith College for the last five years.
We are coming to the show at Tanglewood this Saturday — can't wait!
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