I turned my face towards the moon, its silver brightness casting darker shadows than the sun earlier in the day. This was the second time I had been drawn from my slumbers....beckoned by some unknown force. All I knew was that I needed to be there, which was strange because why would I need to be away from my safe bed, out in the street at this unearthly hour?
I had been unsettled for some while, a feeling of unfinished business lying heavily on my mind. The crazy thing was....I knew I had the answer somewhere, buried deep in my subconscious. Something to do with a conversation I had with my mother long ago that, at the time, I didn't take very seriously. We had been discussing life after death, a subject close to my mother's heart. She had always said to me that once she had died... if she could, she would find a way to touch me, to prove her words were true.
For some years, I had all but forgotten this conversation...my mother had passed away and while I had been keeping a watchful eye on my father, it had slipped to the dark recesses of my mind. He was coping well now and recently, I had more time to myself to do my own type of grieving, something that had been put on hold, probably for too long.
A week ago, I remember waking with a start...sitting bolt upright in my bed then turning my head to the silver threads of moonbeams filtering through my window. Almost in a daze, I was drawn to the familiar, gentle face of the moon and felt a strange calmness wash over me and I settled back down to sleep.
So here I was, standing in the chilly night, waiting for goodness knows what... and then, without warning it came to me... the words to a poem, spoken softly and clearly...
"Oh moon, oh gentle vision
White robed in purity
Is there one among your children
Who shines up there for me
Is there one who hears my wishes
Who watches when I stray
One tiny ray of silver light
To guard me night and day
Tell me, sweet lady of the sky
Which one may I call mine
Which one shall know my secret heart
Which one for me will shine
Ah, Lady Moon, look down I pray
And hear my humble plea
Is there one among your children
Who shines up there for me"
I stood there...transfixed. Then, I didn't need to be there any more. I returned to the still warm comfort of my bed.
Six months later, my father had been going through my mother's green box which contained all her documents and paperwork. At the bottom, he found an exercise book, the pages held together with a spiral binder. He leafed through it then added it to the pile of books and magazines that he always saved to pass on to me each week. I bundled them all into a carrier bag after our weekly shop then drove home, meaning to spend a quiet evening reading.
Everyone had gone out after dinner and the house was still. I curled up on the sofa, the pile of books by my side and I picked up the exercise book, my mother's maiden name on the front. It fell open at a page of poetry, neatly hand written.....
The first few words caught my eye....
"Oh moon, oh gentle vision........................."
Dreamstress X
P.S. The poem in this very short story is actually one my mother wrote
-- Edited by The Dreamstress at 04:16, 2008-03-02
