The Moon

I am the moon.

Cowering behind the sunlight, so bright it’s blinding.

Ready for my time to shine but only ever mirroring those who shine brighter than me.


I am the moon.

Constructed from years of meteorites ripping holes through me.


I am the moon.

A glinting orb hanging from the sky,

A melting pot of cuts from sharp words and bruises from the weight of stress to prove myself.


We are born afraid of the dark,

But the moon is always our beacon of light in a time of fear.


So, why do I cower?


Why do I mirror?


Why do I wait for my time to shine?


The moon hangs alone in the cold dark clouds of the unknown.

But I am not alone.


I am not the moon.


I am a star.

Not always seen but always there.


Always shining.

Always burning with the power of a thousand suns.


I am a star.


Maybe not the brightest,

Or the most well known,

But still there.


Always shining.


We are stars.


Brighter than the sun.


Miles apart but never alone.


We are stars.


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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