During the Super Blood Wolf Moon Lunar Eclipse, I Find Myself in a Poem
I watched the lunar eclipse on Sunday and it always amazes me how much lunar events get my adrenalin flowing. I was actually trying to watch an episode of Friends from College, but once the lunar eclipse it was immediately forgotten and all lights were turned out.
I was taking photos of the moon through my telescope with my iPhone. We brought the telescope outside and the moment I looked up, a shooting star. It was one of those moments where everything feels perfectly choreographed for my bliss.
When the moon turned red, so many more stars appears and everything had that crisp look which is hard to explain but the night sky felt as if someone had used the "sharpen" tool in Photoshop, making sure each pinprick of light was detailed and perfectly placed.
As the eclipse went on, I thought--I should be writing. I have this weird superstition about monumental moments--New Year's Eve, lunar eclipse, birthdays, solstice, Day of the Dead, etc--that I should be writing on these days because it's a nod to the universe that yes, this is my passion and if you see me writing on these days, it means it's what I should be doing with my life (and hey universe, if you see this, send me some good luck and inspiration too).
I realize this doesn't really make any sense, but it's a strange belief I've carried since I was younger. On New Year's, let me start the year by reading a poem or writing one, on my birthday, let me be laughing so it carries on through the year.
But during the lunar eclipse, I realized that even though I wasn't physically writing a poem, I was experience one. I was in the middle of a poem looking out. Insert shooting star. Insert the moment you hear your neighbors laugh because they are out on their patio with a drink watching as well. Insert telescope zooming on a crater.
I now want to write the poem to create the feeling I had on Sunday. I want to be lost in a poem and not know it's a poem. Maybe that's life. Maybe it's when we're mindful. Maybe this is something I need to think about more when the reader is reading my poem, is she lost in the poem and looking out, shooting star filled, or is she just lost?
Who knows if we are the poet or our life is the poem? Who cares to find out?
To future lunar events,
~ Kells ________________