The face of the full moon

mother sky cradles
her silver mirror—
the moon’s round face
resting in her palm

on nights like this,
she gazes into its glow,
enchanted by her own light

then she gazes
through her endless veils
of day and night—
she sees the fire
in the hearts of lost lovers

she sees them too
on nights like this, gazing
at the moon’s round glowing disk

they too are entranced by her light—
the light of all the stars
glistening in her eyes

they see that she sees,
and they know they exist
and that somewhere,
someone else knows
they are there

and their hearts fill,
becoming radiant spheres
reflecting the stars
while they stand
in their own light—
daring not to perish

—Lorena Wolfman (2020, 2025)