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A Timid Hemisphere*

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Worshiped as a god

in the morning

of the world,

a chariot on the edge

of heaven,

he was offered a bowl

of human hearts

when sister moon

kissed his brow

to reveal his corona,

a mystic moment

explained away

by current science,

and from the vantage

of a distant star,

a minute flicker

in a field of fireflies,

and yet we gather

after a harbinger

of storms and quakes

to gaze into the darkness

with more than awe,

or wonder,

but with a trepidation

for the loss of our own

meager light.

 

*after Neruda’s phrase in his poem, Los Enigmas