Sangha 10/2024

I used to think of you as the flame,
and me as the moth.

A moth, though not as magnificent,
is stronger than the butterfly.
No gossamer wings or tiny antennae,
nocturnal moths
are awake when it’s dark.

I flew against your window screen,
invading dreams when you went to sleep.

I thought for sure,
it was your flame I was attracted to.
The invitation of your colors,
your heat,
and sensuality.

I couldn’t stay away
when I saw you flicker in the wind.

But now I’ve read that moths near flame
are actually caught in a disorienting orbit.
I know this to be true,
for when I was with you,
I no longer knew which way was up,
or which was down.

You created my trajectory,
I was trapped, unable to leave.

A moth is surprisingly complex.
I once used your light as a compass clue,
but whenever I was around you
my sense of direction scrambled,
my sense of right from wrong seemed to disappear.

I found it impossible to leave the allure of your flame.
You made me believe your human-made light,
was actually the sky,
and only when you snuffed it out,
could I regain my flight.

 

Melanie Civin Kenion is a Boston-based poet. Her writing topics have included the environment of the city, the end of imaginary love, and her aging body. She attended Orion Environmental Writers’ Workshop at Omega Institute, and has been published in Mass Bards Poetry Anthology, The Prompt Magazine, among others.