The cats wake up to the call, to a moon I doubt they see. They are indoor cats. They climb up their tree ladder to eat kibble from a platform out of reach of the dog. A moon they cannot see.

Remembering that shame is a construction, not born out of thin air. A parent shapes the child’s eye how the moon, sliced by the earth’s shadow, gets mistaken for the night sky. She said “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” The child takes it on, wears it like a cloak of truth, a thick skin, a hide from a skinned rabbit become a coat she runs away in. Even when she thinks she’s stationary, knows a thing or two, she’s running, as fear runs her.

No one is born invisible. One may become homeless. Things happen, and you end up with a split deck: two queens, a joker, a frozen heart.

We all talk to ourselves, right? And we all need a little self-coaching at times. This is a recent example from my diary:

1-Find one thing to love about the day. 2-Leave yourself behind. 3-Find yourself observing the light just separating itself from the night. 4-Notice color emerge as if you’d never seen it before. 5-Don’t let it go unnoticed, the lavender-blue sky. 6-Find the still point on which all sound revolves. 7-Give this much to yourself, and the world that needs your acknowledgement. 8-Steep in poetry.

At other times, I’m not quite so affirming. Like this entry: “Is it time for gratitude, or is it time to own my sour ass?”

I’ll leave you with another poet’s wise words:

“Who are you to believe you are untrue to yourself? Who must you be?”

From the poem “GIven” by Carol Frost, in her book I Will Say Beauty.