The Moon and I
Sometimes in the darkest nights I go out of the house and sit silently in front of a sea I can barely see. The black spaces enhance the stars’ light which reflect on the surf turning it into an aquatic Via Láctea, a Camino de Santiago rocking softly with salty constellations. The moon yearns to show up, but it’s not her time of the month, and she has to content with spying on earth, so close and so out of reach. I understand how the separation from this beauty makes her feel lonely, though, we both prefer it this way just in case God decides to speak to us in the stillness.
we listen the new moon and I for God’s voice
Alicia Viguer-Espert was born and raised in Mediterranean Spain. She combines old and new traditions to elicit hope in her poetry. Her work has been published national and internationally. Winner of the San Gabriel Valley Poetry Contest with “Holding a Hummingbird,” her second chapbook “Out of the Blue Womb of the Sea,” was published by Four Feathers Press. She’s a twice Pushcart nominee.
Amethyst Review 