Night erased days
wood floors, brass bed,
cotton curtains perished in
black. Terrified by dark,
he squat, arms locked ’round
knees, frozen, too far gone
to whimper, stared into a
blank hole ’till a
faint took him across
the border, crossed, recrossed,
cross, his mind making
monsters from nothing.

This, until father, holding him to
his chest, the boys arms
clinging to his neck,
face rammed into the nook
fathers chin and shoulder made,
took him into midnight.

“Look at the sky,”
father commanded.
“What do you see?”

“The little lights…”

“Those are stars.”

“…stars… .”

“Like our sun,
but very, very far.
What else do you see?”

“…nothing… .”

“Look again. Follow my finger.”

sighting along fathers
arm, wrist, finger
he saw a circle,
blacker than the black space
beyond, blacker on black
it stood out, seen.

“…a hole, Daddy?”

“No. It’s the moon.”

“…but moon’s white,
shines. Trees I’ve seen
on moon bright nights
make shadows on the grass
seen moons light on…”

“Yes, the moon shines,
but not always. In
sequence it goes to
dark like you see it
now. But, you see it,
yes? yes?”

“…yes…”

“In the darkness, son,
still is the stuff of light,
living, unseen, but there,
always. Believe what your
closed eyes see. You
need not be frightened
by the dark or what is
or isn’t in the night.”