The Cancer Moon
Reveals itself to me
In its midday shine.
No worries of being
Too early or too late.
Just simply being,
Just in its own time.
And that power of being
Is the Moon’s resistance.
It is almost imperceptible,
The way the Cancer Moon emerges
From over the redwood mountains,
The way the lunar shadows are pushed back
As the veil of nighttime overtakes the day.
In awe, I see myself
In the reflection of the Waxing Moon
That surely and truly presses forward.
What is my resistance?
What do I push against?
My power is in my being,
And, like a feathered point
Strung back on the bow of Heracles,
I feel myself stagnant, bound and wound up
In the pressure of where I need to go.
I need only to see the Cancer Moon
To know in myself
That I will hit my mark,
That I will leave my mark on the world
Just in time,
Just in being.