I always thought maybe the moon would somehow save me.
As I cowered under my windows, sheathed in her pale blue glow, waiting, I thought maybe, just once, it would.
But it never did.
Nothing ever did.
That’s the thing about being such a small child. You’ll pray to anything and everything, for it to come protect you.
Because you’re too small to do anything but cower and try not to cry.
Try not to make a noise.
I spent many nights with the moonbeams shining over me as I awaited my fate, but somehow, it always comforted me.
Even though I knew, at such a young age, that she couldn’t help me. She was still there.
Enduring my pain right along with me. Giving me hope.
For that, I will always love the moon and the light she shines.
© Sarah Doughty