Partial Eclipse After Seven Years
poem
Impossibly the moon blocks out the sun, not all at once, but slice by slice like pie eating away the blazing center one: source of gravity. A chill falls over darkened grass as premature dusk descends. The last time I saw an eclipse, you grew inside me. If you had lived, you would be six years old. This ache for you feels young and old. Ageless as the sun. Ageless as the moon. You are both here and very much not here. A shadow falls between us, cold and dark. But the sun has never faltered. It burns on until the day appointed to go out. You’re one of three moons circling my green earth.
Composition Notes:
My sister Ruthie and her husband Josh met their beautiful Owen when he was a stillbirth at twenty-five weeks. As their oldest son, he is forever part of their family. As their oldest son, his absence is profound. I wrote this sonnet during the eclipse of 2024 as I was remembering how she was pregnant with him during the total solar eclipse of 2017. The symbolism of an eclipse, of something overshadowing the sun, becomes a vehicle to apprehend the darkness of loss as well as the resilience and hope that allows us to continue living in the midst of grief. Ruthie and Josh now have two more beautiful children, which is why three moons circle the green earth. Each of their three children reflect the light of the sun in their eternal story. Every human is immortal. One day our family will be complete. Until that day, we remember him.
What a beautiful tribute for your sister and her family, a weaving of loss and grief and hope into the circling of the sun and the moon. Eclipse is such a perfect metaphor for grief and the hope of resurrection and reunion.
Both physical and other-worldly. What an honoring poem, Abigail. The little ones whispered into and out of our temporal lives are eternal. Thanks for sharing this.