six moons at the first full moon our bodies remembered, the memory of our long history together

encoded in their cells, and they rejoiced in our reunion. at the second full moon we made love again, and again a truth was spoken through our bodies; you made known to me a deep rage that resided there and i made known to you that i was unafraid, willing to receive all of you, helping to heal those parts with my love. at the third full moon my heart bled in a battle waged with your mind. Nevertheless our truth was spoken: "i feel you so deeply...", "i feel safe with you...", "People wait their whole lives...", "Let me love you...", "Don't let go of me...", "i promise I'll come for you...", "i love you...” the fourth full moon bled its timorous light over the mountain ridges of Escazu, coming shyly to caress the pane at my window, but you weren't there to bathe with me, so i stayed alone in the hammock under the mango tree. at the fifth full moon i shut the bedroom blinds, not wanting to see the moon. now, again the moon is full and insists on revealing itself through the ivy at my window; i bathe in its sweet light, remembering ... because it is the same as wherever you are...

by Christine McIntyre, 1992

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