The moon she cries
For she thinks she is imperfect
Too pale, too different, nothing like the stars that surround her.
She never sleeps
and hides pieces of herself away from the world.

But a moon daughter is watching from afar
The blood of her Mother’s beams pulses through her veins,
Her milky white light strengthens her bones,
she is brought to life by the shine of dusk.

Slow down, inhale, let the moonlight flood your lungs

Are you waxing or waning today?
When you bite down do your teeth ache?
When you laugh do bells sound?
Can’t you hear how they howl for you?

How beautifully tragic it is that you cannot see your own light.

Although you may not know it, someone loves you, moon warrior;
your black holes
your craters
your atmosphere
your patience
your gravity
and every last one of your phases.

You were born with a fire in your belly; move tides.
You emanate romance and mystery; the lovers and the night-things long to rejoice in your brilliance
–if only you’d let them.

Even on the days when you feel like you are shrinking into black oblivion,
the days it feels like the universe might swallow you up whole,
when you’re lonely and just want to disappear to see if anyone would even notice,

Remember:
the moon doesn’t change shapes.

You are always whole.
You are always important.
This universe needs you.
The moon and you.

Author: Lea Pintozzi

Image: Mateus Lunardi Dutra/Flickr

Editors: Emily Bartran; Caitlin Oriel