Facing the moon

During the month of August, I’m participating in the Writer’s Tarot Challenge.

Day 9: The Moon Draw –  what buried secrets are rising to the surface

The moon dwells low and wide on the horizon. Medley gazes at it rigidly, willing it to soften the hard edges of the thoughts that clobber her during every waking moment. She wonders here and there of whose eyes behold the moon at the same time. Her mother? Her birth mother? The spirits of those who’ve passed on? Angels? Demons?

Chills roll up her arms and down her body, despite the deepening spring warmth of the desert. The familiar tang of her own sweat surrounds her, and she wipes beads of liquid salt from her forehead. How many secrets has the moon kept? How much terror has it been a silent witness to? How much love has it perceived here on earth compared with fear, anguish, and hatred?

A breeze tickles Medley’s nose with the sweetness of nearby yellow acacia, and just then her heart aches, pounding in her skin for the desire to be whole. She needs to know who she is and what this life rife with pain is meant for. “What is it? Who am I?” she whispers, her face moistening again, this time in two long, jagged streams.

The moon stares back at her, keeping her secrets close. Medley’s fury flares like the sun, brightening with an unspoken truth that dims the moon’s luster.

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