as the night furrows the deep-entrenched skepticism
i carry within and out, like an extra piece of clothing
(on my nudity that does not embarrass me anymore),
i try to anchor myself to the moon — my mother, my
sister, my friend in insanity, my trusted comrade of
a bloodless birthright (rite)—& play with the strings
of a star-invisible sky, little-by-little, a tune attunes
itself to my grief, my being heavier as if the mass of
a black sun, and i put my mind to lines and words,
the gaps between my bones and silent sobs, rising in
the thought of my own betrayed blessings, healing
there on for an elemental recovery, imbued in an orb-
like feature, surrounding me, and i wait for things to
turn themselves right, to fulfill another night its end
of destiny, the despondency, the relief, the lonesome
levity, the tree-memory, the earth-bound-eventuality.
© Anmol Arora 2018
Image source (Night city by Svetlana Tikhonova)
For With Real Toads’ The Places That Heal Us — it is not a place but a moment, a juncture where time meets the customary requirement/need — a display of emotion for healing, for keeping on
Also to be linked with the Poetry Pantry at PU
20 thoughts on “a nocturnal refuge”
We seem to be on a similar wavelength, Anmol. There’s nothing quite like anchoring yourself to the moon and stars.
I wonder if earth-bound eventuality..is comfort or compromise… like the fickle moon…
There are more fickle things one could anchor oneself to than the moon! 😉
Give me Earth bound reality anytime. Better to stay here and exist rather than explore the universe and lose oneself.
What i luv about this poem is resonating theme of accepting self
Happy Sunday Anmol
I love the star-invisible sky and anchoring yourself to the moon. I feel your grief expressed through song/words and how that is the way through it.
Sigh.. the night with its comforting solitude 🙂 There is something about it that draws the soul into its refuge. Hours after the world is deep in slumber (us poets) often resort to writing and sometimes music to calm the storm stirring inside. I could feel every word and line-break and held my breath at “as if the mass of a black sun, and i put my mind to lines and words.” A beautifully evocative write, Anmol! ❤️
Love what the night can bring for some… for me darkness always means to cold… up north we are anchored inside when it’s dark… I wish I could see the stars like you do.
Anmol, I was rather enraptured with this poem, and your swirl of amazing words and images. I especially love “play with the strings of a star-invisible sky”. Wow. And then the “tree memory, the earth-bound eventuality.” A rather brilliant write.
The best place to be is anchored to the moon…..beautiful!
I was struck with the line about being anchored to the moon. The moon does create balance and perhaps it is that balance that ultimately grounds one to the earth.
I have really been enjoying your poetry, it’s fresh with an edge.
I completely love the idea of the moon being “my friend in insanity”. It just fits so beautifully. Yes, I do believe I just howled.
Love it! Brilliant lines in this.
‘i try to anchor myself to the moon’
wafted from the screen and – having floated across the room – it has pinned itself to the window looking upwards ~ smiles ~
A richly-worded write filled with emotion. Good one!
Beautiful! …and yes.
For the the grace here comes in accepting all of it–getting past the barriers of self into the wider welcome of the night. Yes.
Many times the moon has been my comforter, too. That and the act of writing poetry. Gorgeous, gorgeous poem (if sad). Though a moment in time, it feels like a place too; or I get a sense of the place you were when this moment happened.
The anchor of moon and music of the stars are beautiful images. I am a moon child. She was my first friend.
i try to anchor myself to the moon …me too
I’ll take the moon okay, Anmol, but I will never again trust the sun and the stars. I loved your ending, a forced levity. Might as well, things won’t heal. Scab over, perhaps. I liked this read, thank you.