To Photograph the Moon

To Photograph the Moon

(“I do not cease to give thanks for you when I remember you in my prayers.” Ephesians 1:16)

It might have been luck that brought us this far;
it is hard to tell between the rain, between the mailboxes,
between the houses, and between the minutes slowing
everything down.

One thing we had not counted on was
how seldom we found the cracks in the sky.
It was our habit to number the stars at night
and to photograph the moon like a goddess casting
spells over the trees. Shadows moved in and out
of each other.

We can talk on the phone for an hour,
we can catch up after 20 years. Where are the
connections we’ve prayed for? Where are the
the parties we used to plan?

If you painted a picture of what you see out your window
I would follow it like a map.
If you allowed for just a hairbreadth inside your heart,
I would leave everything intact.
If you spoke the words you never sing for anyone,
I would memorize them and inscribe them,
I would make them part of this poem,
I would enshrine them for further review.
I would never forget how the words are you,
and you full of paragraphs yet written, tales still
untold.

I appreciate your prayers, but next time

Let me see your eyes.