Rising Moons in the Needles of Trees Bring Us Water

By Jonah Mixon-Webster

I

If we find no more light in the world
then where have our eyes gone?
If it is all ruined and readied
to build up a new destruction,
then what does that say about our desire?
The trees work in the wind to create
nighttime melodies. The wind works
with water to move the world
to its destiny. The water works
with the rock to make new space
peaceful and steady. Nature makes
a great team even in its terrifying force.
In the sky there is always light,
even in the dark, even in the day.

II

The light continues to wrestle the dark
in the squared circled hearts of haters
and lovers alike. There’s a matter
in the sky that casts its lot of moonlight
where my eyes are kept. Every vision
is a fact, yet I shouldn’t speak too much
of the shadows following me down the hall
lest they hear my fear and keep track.
So where does joy go when we suffer? 
Where does pain go when we are healed?
Must they exist together always in the void
of what goes unseen and untouched? 
If you ruled the world, what would you find first?
Endless space to conquer? Food for the hungry?
A light of your own to shine?