Looking
forward from
where you
are: the
moon-light
masked by
the
manufactured
haze hangs
amidst white
clouds like
doubts that
linger in the
mind. You
can’t touch
the light cup
it like water
that slowly
seeps
through
unsteady
fingers . . . no;
you can only
think about it
wave your
hand before
your face
watch the
moonlight
peekaround
the corners of your hands
their deliberate gestures
and try to understand
that even
light must
find its own
way through
the human
murk that
drifts across
the smoke-
smothered
sky.
--Michael Patrick McSweeny
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