Pink Moon Medicine

The Pink Moon has me wondering
about the uses of poems.
I’d like a poem for communion,
one just to remember over and over
that alone is not an option.
Tomorrow I may surely need
a poem like a shield to protect me
from inadvertent lies.

I wander further under the moon
seeking a poem to invoke
a cascade of lively chemistry,
just the one for freshest of dreams,
for startling the thoughts of the heart.
And I’ll want a First Aid poem
to pull from the chest in surrender to wounds,
healing me into humility.

The Pink Moon has me wandering
within a forest thick with poems.
An apothecary rich and varied
where I may write my own prescription
and then dispense the remedy as needed.
But the poems of greatest service, I say,
are the ones that ring out from the woods
to transform the listener by music.

©Susa Silvermarie 2023