Moonshine

Moonshine

Deborah Beach Giordano
© May 2, 2011

I hated it
when humans
landed
on the moon,
and planted a flag
on its luminous face
as though it was
just another piece
of property:
an addition
to our collection,
the stuff
we claim
is ours.

Another symptom
of cultural
neurosis:
hoarding
Beanie Babies,
Tickle Me Elmos,
hotel towels,
ashtrays,
party favors,
moon rocks,
rice,
oil,
ammunition …

any
thing
we are told
someone else
might want
some day.

Limited edition,
one
to a customer;
a surefire method
of getting
repeat
business.

There’s not enough
for everyone
so every
one
gets
carried away
and grabs
as many
as can be carried
away.

Whatever
is left
after the fighting,
the trampling
and the dying,
is put on display;

in cabinets
and cases,
collections
of debris;
still in
the original box.

The overflow
that can no
longer
be stored
in mansions
and manor houses
now held
in museums;

loaned,
never given,
tax breaks
carefully wrapped
in red tape
kept
behind plexiglass
locked
in cold
and airless
tombs.

But the moon
shines
despite
the claims
made upon her,
untroubled,
unhindered,
available
to all;

a celestial
free agent
untouched
by human will;
an illuminated
reality check
for mortal egos;
nothing
belongs
to us.

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About inklingscommunity

I am a struggling Christian, committed pacifist, near-obsessive recycler, incurable animal lover, inveterate tree-hugger; a nature mystic, a socialized introvert, an advocate for the vulnerable, an opponent of exploiters.
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