Friday, January 20, 2012

mourning moon

I loved you before I knew to love you. I whispered your name on the wind.

Lucia. Lucia Paz. Where are you?

The only thing I hold of you now is the grief, like a cast around my heart. I signed your name on it so many times, it became part of the love I feel for everything. Someone once asked me if you wrote it yourself, I said yes until I believed it.

I miss you. I miss your little head. And your beautiful everything. It is strange to feel lonely without someone you met only once, but I suppose I never met you, not really. I only knew you dead. That is just not the same.

The morning moon hung to the southeast this morning, perfect in its sliver. I felt the dawn inside of me. An awakening to something like solitude, not loneliness, but a learning to be alone. I am a hermit. An old soul. A crone. A holy woman, wild hair like a crown above my head. I cannot take in the flesh, and neither can I let the flesh go. I tear at it with my teeth, small bites for protein. I need strength to be alone. But it is a conflict. I let her flesh leave me. She was taken away to a room somewhere. Did they love her, the men that cut her open? Did they cry? Did they soothe her bruises? Did they pray? Did they know she was named Lucia?

I keep thinking I have written about her for the last time, but then I see the moon in the early morning. The way it winks as it wanes. The way it reminds me of time. And I write about her. Sometimes when I cannot escape myself, I find her. Kept secret behind the moon, playing hide and seek.

Find me, mama.

I am in the winter sky. I am in the early dawn. I am in your seclusion. I am not speaking through mediums and channels and charlatans. I am in the quiet. I am in the tears. I am etched in your skin. I am in the cough. I am the distance. I am the early morning. I am the birds. I am your baby. I am the forest through the trees. I am not here. I am everywhere.

You say you cannot find me, but you have been looking right at me. When you are on your knees, begging for peace, offering yourself to peace, that is where I am.


  1. This is beautiful... reminds me of that poem, "I am a thousand winds that blow..." They are with us always, everywhere. (((hugs)))

  2. So beautiful, Angie. Missing Lucia with you. xo

  3. Oh this is beautiful... heartbreakingly beautiful. I look for Liam in the sky, in the drifting clouds, in the stars, in the moon..
    Peace to you.

  4. I've been absent from this little corner of the interweb for a while ... but what a post to come back to. I felt your words right in my spine.

    The cast around my heart ... yes, yes, oh yes.

  5. The cast around my heart line got me too.
    Beautiful, Angie.
    xo Lucia xo

  6. My moon baby, my star baby....Looking looking looking. Where are they?

    In the forest, in the creeks? where are they?

  7. My goodness Angie, this is perfect.

  8. Please never stop writing about Lucia. Thanks Angie.

  9. Love your blog. Beautiful writer. Found you on the Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope website. I'd love to have you follow along on my blog as well; I am sorry for your loss

  10. So beautiful, Angie. I'm glad you caught a glimpse of her, your Lucia. I wish you could have more than that.

  11. Beautiful.... and so unbelievably true

  12. This is quite soothing to my mourning.


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