Rising Moons in the Needles of Trees Bring Me Water

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 wondrous 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?

Jonah Mixon-Webster is a poet and educator from Flint, Michigan. He is the author of Stereo(TYPE), which received the PEN America/Joyce Osterweil Award, and the forthcoming Promise/Threat. He holds a Ph.D. from Illinois State University.
Originally published:
September 9, 2024

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