Words Prompted by A Celestial Hiatus

By Roy Doughty
Written 3/4/07

Last night, a brushy wilderness of thin,
White clouds kept even the eyes of the skywatchers
From seeing the lunar eclipse.
But we felt it, thrashing restlessly in
Our beds, watchers of a different sort,
As the umbilical of these heavenly
Radiations was cut by Earth’s round shadow.
Like children, we cried at the disappearance
Of our mother, and the event, this morning,
Under a low, silver sheathing of sunless
Skies, still reverberates inside of us.
We have experienced darkness, have returned
To the egg where the only light we could
See was that inner one, the splayed and splaying
Lines of a thousand dreams, each one marking
A degree of arc on a sphere that seems quite infinite.
“This is the egg,” we cry, “of our lost self,
Shining and spinning as a thousand suns,
Whose nourishments can never be eclipsed.”

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