SHORT POETRY | derekrobertdelahunt

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Derek Robert Delahunt

Lily.

Lily.

You know a planet the size of the Earth shouldn’t have a moon this big, they say – not according to the laws of the universe. That is… unless two planets happen to collide, forever tilting and spinning one of them, and destroying the other. But what if made from the aftermath was a moon so massive that its gravity lowered and raised the oceans, and kneaded the granite guts of the planet like bread dough? And then from this constant push and pull, molten rock was made, lubricating the underside of continental plates so they drifted and collided, and in slow violent subductions also made mountains – the ones we call the Alps, and the Rockies, or the Himalaya?
Consider any full moon, those dates when the sun illuminates the entirety of its Earth-facing side, and then consider how many eyes must gaze upon that rare and full Blue Moon - at any one moment. And throughout the night, maybe seen by every person you’ve ever loved or hated, or who loved and hated you.
And so maybe just the sight of it, ghost white in the heavens, is even stronger than its strength to raise those oceans. And those mountains.

You know a planet the size of the Earth shouldn’t have a moon this big, they say – not according to the laws of the universe. That is… unless two planets happen to collide, forever tilting and spinning one of them, and destroying the other. But what if made from the aftermath was a moon so massive that its gravity lowered and raised the oceans, and kneaded the granite guts of the planet like bread dough? And then from this constant push and pull, molten rock was made, lubricating the underside of continental plates so they drifted and collided, and in slow violent subductions also made mountains – the ones we call the Alps, and the Rockies, or the Himalaya?
Consider any full moon, those dates when the sun illuminates the entirety of its Earth-facing side, and then consider how many eyes must gaze upon that rare and full Blue Moon - at any one moment. And throughout the night, maybe seen by every person you’ve ever loved or hated, or who loved and hated you.
And so maybe just the sight of it, ghost white in the heavens, is even stronger than its strength to raise those oceans. And those mountains.

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Short poetry as posted on Instagram @derekrobertdelahunt. Additional comments from the author are visible on Instagram.

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