Blood Moon

Blood Moon by Yonah ben-Avraham

There was in its eyes a glow
the pale shimmer of curling mist at the edges of the sea
an irradiated grimace
not quite a sparkle, not a flash, some fleeting moment passed in grief or rage
but a humming constant, like the static ringing at ends of your hearing

this candle-flame bonfire, watching mournfully, hungrily
pupils dilating and contracting to that light cast within
a face of shadow,
thick black fur and jagged bone
and still those eyes, whites near yellow
a turn of sight or creeping sickness

and dancing in that burning glance was all the pain, the frustration
all the needless suffering, the lies
the tragedy and comedy
all the seeds of evil in man
and I could not turn him away

I’d raised him since he was a pup
and I suppose he raised me

His coat was tattered now,
coarse and wind-torn
beaten thin by the rain lashing down upon the richest hillsides
old pasture turned hunting ground
and back again by the slightest twist of thought

I let him lean against me,
however wary and weary,
draping an arm around scarred shoulders
praying that now those claws will find a purer purpose
but still be kept forever sharp as
in the darkest hour

We sighed and glimpsed a moment of twisted light,
of bent promises and the peace of fallen stars
of the winding path to Love and brightest Void
the spiral song and only story

and now we sit together, howling
beneath the blood-red moon

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