HALF-GROWN MOON

Half-grown moon,
shaped like cut calabash
where’s your other half?
Did you bury it beneath
the deep greyness of the May clouds
or you hid it under the evening sky –
the colour of oven ash?

Half-grown moon,
How do you manage
to forge a smile in the dark
and send your gold-straw rays
Million miles down the earth
to kiss the dirt on our roof
and the earthen pot under the eaves?

Tell me little moon,
who taught you
how to light the sky
vast as the desert sands,
boundless
as the waters of the ocean?

Half-grown moon,
why do you outshine the stars
your celestial neighbours?
They are sad
I can tell from their twinkles.
Do you do this to spite their pride
or you never notice they are hurt?

Little one, tell me
how do you feel
when children at play
sing your praise on the terrace?
Do you raise your brows in pride
or you just remain placid,
your face modest as your light?

Tell me half-grown moon,
how do you manage
to sail across our town at night
you whose gait is as slow as the snail’s?
Do you fly as fast as the eagle
to the west, your place of rest
when the last man out bolts his door?
Speak to me half-grown moon,
I’ll hear you from here.

——————-

(c) Emmanuel Isuku

IMAGE: Enrico Strocchi