a lot of what i became was the moon:
a reflection of someone else’s light,
the glow in the dark,
masked behind the bramble—
it’s like discovering my fabric
is made of the night sky and that
it can never change
that the cape i use to float in the wind
is made of the stars and constellations
but that everyone is asleep and
indoors when it takes hover
but if the evening could transform
to what image does it become
am i even myself if i am not a satellite
“we wouldn’t see the meteor showers
or the fireworks if not for the dark”
we wouldn’t know gleam if not for gloom
then what is the moon for
what is the moon for
what is the moon

– Rozina Jessa