At Every Moon's Arrival

The glow of the moon cascades into the heart of the kitchen,

where a cold, silver spoon meets the mouth of a hungry child.

The air of the night feels cool on a nearby walker’s face,

The sound of his breathing beats loudly into the darkness.


The floorboards creak from beneath a woman’s feet,

who has been standing in the corner with her fists raised to both cheeks,

who has been silently watching a man’s every move from across the room.


His scream pierces through the air like a gunshot firing through the Pacific,

he bangs his hands against the walls that surround him

on the walls that are slowly caving in,

slowly crushing his brittle bones.


She dives across the waterfall of moonbeams,

into a darkness that does not wish to protect her,

she is exposed.


He lunges for her throat,

his warm fingers gripping the sides of her neck,

a gasp for air is taken but nothing is received,

only the scent of vanilla and radiating light draws into her frigid lungs.


A young child with wide eyes watches from afar,

where the darkness does not reach,

where only the great lights of the falling sun still shine.


The slap erupts the sun’s peaceful death and the moon’s sudden arrival,

sending an earthquake that awakens the scariest of monsters,

the darkest of demons.


The young child runs,

runs far into the light where she is safe

but there are spirits nipping at her shoe laces,

causing her to fall deep into the darkness of the night.


Silently she cries for her mother,

who now lays upon the wooden floor,

blood gushing from her inner lip,

a stream of ruby red running between each golden tooth.


Silently she cries for her father,

who now stands above her mother,

feeling ashamed and broken,

gripping the hand that hurt her.


The young girl grows older,

the moonbeams finding her room every night,

stretching over the surface of her tainted skin,

she cries only for her innocence and youth at the arrival of every moon.


When she wakes,

she finds the demons have destroyed her heart,

where she no longer feels a thing,

where she no longer possesses any love.


Her depression eats her alive,

ties her limbs to the walls and buries her in red brick,

leaving her alone,

leaving her broken.


She fights with both fists raised to her cheeks,

the darkness biting the back of her heels,

chewing on her fragile ankles,

clawing at her ribecage.


With a single punch,

knuckles meeting the black of night,

a loud scream banging against every wall,

she wins.

This poem is about: 
My family


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741