Moonchild by Teresa Cruz

Summer night drives through the town I called home. 

Every single street silent and dark

only the light of my friend to make me feel safe.

My friend,

The Moon.

The Moon that followed me on every car ride making sure I arrived safe and sound.

The Moon that looked after me when my imagination lead me to wander the streets alone.

The Moon that made light in times of darkness.

The Moon I talked to when I felt there was no one there.

This Moon followed me.

He was my best friend.

I was a child. 

Nights and days passed.

I stopped talking to the Moon.

I was told he wasn't my friend,

He was in my imagination.

The world influenced me.

I lost myself.

I stopped watching him as he worked.

I forgot about my old friend.

Nights got darker.

The streets more dangerous.

Now I was alone.

 The paper became my friend.

The pen, my partner.

Writing was my weapon.

Until the weapon cease to fire.

The feeling of emptiness filled my spirit,

Until I wound up where I started.

The dark streets.

The streets I wandered as a child

I looked up and he was there.

He wasn't in my imagination.

His light filled me.

I was no longer alone.

We spoke for hours.

"Moonchild," he called me,

"I was there for all of it" he said.

"I watched you lose yourself,

But here I am to lead you home."

He held me. 

I cried. 

I was safe.

I was at peace.

He guided me in life

Until I finally met him

I sat up with him in the sky as one of his children.

He was the Moon.

I was his child. Moonchild.