The Night Sky


I look up, up, up and see the night,

Like a velvet skein of black silk,

glimmering with chips of ice cold diamonds,

smooth and cool across my vision.


Hung like a slick, cold glowing pearl,

the moon hangs,

a jewel on the breast of a beautiful, mysterious woman,

mother, sister, friend, confidant.


She calls to me, asking, whispering, wondering.

Why do you cry?

Why do you cry?


I wrap myself in the dark tresses of her hair,

close my eyes and feel the cold fire of her beauty seep into me,

and know that if I whisper my hurt, my sorrow, my grief,

she will hear and tell no one.


Alone, I stand in her embrace,

not pretending, not strong, not hiding from my pain.

Alone, I offer her my river of memories,

my tears and my solitude.


Her stars reflect the past,

her light a reflection of what has already come to pass.

She knows why I grieve.

She hears and offers the comfort of her beauty to me.

~Sheila Medlam