Moon Child

I'm a Cancerian, which means the moon is my ruling planet. Actually, it's not technically a planet,but astrologers don't get into the details. They recognize it for it's power.

I do know that it's the inspiration to a lot of my poetry and artwork. I never get tired of staring at the moon and trying to understand why it's there. All I know is that we're blessed to have the moon. I've made the moon an insolent seductress, innocent bystander, anthromorphed with power and emotions in my poems. I've sketched pictures of moonlit nights and trees.

I recently set my alarm for 2:41 a.m. on Dec 21, 2010 because it was the night of the lunar eclipse. The moon blushed red and I had to see. Once I saw the moon, I had to write. Moon, stars, sun - all seep into my poems because it touches a universal nerve. I race home on evenings with full moons and crane my neck to see the full vibrant moon.

The moon is such a central part of human history. Full of mystery thought full of confidence. It changes, but it's reliable. Children are told stories of the 'man in the moon'. In India, it's common for children to call it Chanda Mama (Uncle Moon) because of its strong presence. The poem below captures my daughter's preschool references to the moon shapes - banana, watermelon and orange.


Stage Lights


When life doesn’t make sense, I look
up at the moon.
It’s really just a foam ball
hung by a string

poked through a velvet cloth
draped over a cardboard theater
made just for us.

Tilt the lights to reveal a banana moon.
Turn it more to show the watermelon moon.
Oh, just flash the light --
it’s an orange moon.

So now I feel better knowing
that I’m only driving around in circles
and if I want to, I can lift the velvet
cloak and take a peek outside.