The other day,
when Mona was trying to get me to write, we were goofing around a bit and ended up writing stories about each other.
Mona went off to write some alien horror story about me. Me, of course, being the alien.
But I decided to go more poetic.
I wanted to share the poem with you today.
A little back story to the poem (if for some reason you don't hang on my every word)...Mona is my little sister, she is a musician, we write music together, and
she almost died from a blood clot in her arm and had to get a rib removed to fix the problem.
The Month and The Sun
By Luna LaBlue 03/24/14
She’s like a moth drawn to the sun, but one who is afraid that if she gets too close she will burn.
She was born into a small family, in a small town.
She was both outspoken and shy.
I remember a time when she would bury her face in the corner, hidden from all family and friends, until she would feel brave and slowly poke her head out and join in on the goings on of life.
I could see her life unfold in this same manner. Like a fawn learning how to walk. She took a while to come into her own skin. Figure out who she really was. And she’s now only learning who she wants to be.
I saw a passion ignite inside of her. At first when it was just the two of us alone on a late winter’s night hovering over our notebooks and her child size guitar.
Uncertain of her own voice she used mine to create the words that brought her music to life.
She kept it hidden, not letting the rest of the world in on our secret.
With prodding and pushing we shuffled through moments and memories creating our own world of music.
With voice still hidden, only whispers in the night she hung in the shadows of others, frightened like a mouse of a trap.
When she realized no one reached out to pull her to the depths and swallow her whole, she slowly began to grow.
But it wasn't without it’s growing pains.
Swollen and blue this harsh life threaten to snuff her out.
Clotting her heart and breaking her bones.
I nearly lost her.
My world destroyed.
Rought from the brink she didn't even know she reached.
Brought passion anew as it was all that was left.
Slowly she learned her voice, brought in through the gravity of realization.
She let go of my hand that had been holding her up and she stepped out into the light.
She knows she still might get burnt, but that hasn't stopped her or slowed her down.
Soon she will become more than the moth, but the sun.
Me: I went to CVS for toilet paper
