the moon has eight official light phases
of which I find the most elegant-sounding to be "waxing crescent"
probably because I fancy straightforward meaning, and
when combined with an abundance of consonants
which I find comforting from a linguistic perspective
it imbues an illogical feeling that when I say it
"waxing crescent' - do it with me
that my brain is waxing in its knowledge crescent, too.
of course the most romantic is "full"
"full" does not sound romantic at all
it conjures mental feelings of distressed bladders, overstuffed bellies,
visuals of cups that are about to spill over if you look at them sideways,
people crying in gratitude, and
calendars that have lots of writing in the margin.
"full" does not accurately describe at all my feelings when I am under a moon at its largest
rapt, ethereal, cavorting, faerie, content, unafraid, bold, barefoot
these are words and feelings for the generous curve I see in the sky,
or things I want to be "more" or "full" of when I am under its soft beam of precious light.
life has phases, too.
suffice it to say, my children, my husband and I are each in phases of life.
Sometimes we are in the same phase - that one of eight -
and in that moment, peace reigns, time stops, and hearts are - well - full.
Sometimes, our cycle is off, and then our family becomes like an unbalanced washer drum
annoying, clanging, cacophony of emotions and tears that needs to be redistributed somehow
by the master launderer.
lately, the patience with the irregularities is waning, not waxing,
and lack of sync of our moon cycles is especially irritating.
one face of the moon jokes and smiles while another mopes about the sky
one face waxes in passion and irrationality; another is tired and drowning
the thing is, you never know when the cycle is going to stop spinning
so you've got to make the best of it - even if there's no soap - and use the light you've got
to make it through to the next full moon.
