I’m going to be up-front with you.
That’s not exactly what I meant.
I’m going out on a limb with this submission to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneer’s 100-word challenge.
First of all, I’m submitting it on a Friday. Whoa, right?
Second of all, it’s a poem. I’m no poet. I don’t understand poetry. So just consider these 97 words arranged as if they were deep poet-like ruminationings.
Enough with the dizzy blonde jokes. I’m smart enough ot profreed my own typping. And I meant to typpe that wrd, ruminationings.
I’m just being honest.
Plus, I want to lower your expectations so you think I did a good job this week.
This week’s dramatic photo comes to us from Madison Woods.
This is a free-form poem and it’s about me, so it’s not really fiction. I guess that would be the third way I’m going out on limb.
Consider me a risk-averse risk-taker submitting a verse.
Dramatic photo, huh?
A Child of the Moon
I am a child of the moon.
She illuminated the night of my birth,
on a cold November night when darkness tipped the scales of daylight.
I entered life in the softness of shadows.
In the cool, gentle umbra, I seek refuge from rays that could burn me through,
leaving scars without ever trying.
Yet darkness exists because of light.
I know this irony well.
When I gaze upon my shadow, I see both empty and full.
Empty Lorna ready to be filled and Filled Lorna ready to be emptied.
Just like any child of the moon.
*****
Those of you who know me, know that I am a Highly Sensitive Person. Bright light bothers me. So do loud noises. I’d rather be in a cool, dark place than, say, at a sunny, crowded beach. In a former life, I was quite possibly a bat.
Yes, yes, yes! I can totally see myself as a bat woman.
Ta ta till next week…
