battle of the lights

Skin the sun alive.

In the hot gold shell of its lining, there must be some answer, some soul-force?

They used to worhsip the sun.

On Friday, a blood-red moon hung soft for close to an hour-

sunless, it suddenly was



In its silver shade it hides a secret-

We are only as strong as

the shadows we reject.



  1. This poem had me captivated from the very first line. “Skin the sun alive….” yes!!

    I would posit, though, that “we’re only as strong as the shadows we accept.” Part of what brought me comfort and peace amidst all this torment and turmoil is accepting that I have shadows – and that I revel in some shadows – and that that’s okay. And the lesson of the blood-red moon, fierce and alive in its sunless state, says to me that she comes most alive (or alive in a different way) when she is shrouded in her own shadows, not dependent on the burning bright light of the sun.

    I have a poem from years ago that you might like, called “Bright Shadows.” I’ll see if I can find it and link it here ☺ it’s not the greatest of poems in terms of craft, but it’s one of my favorites.


    1. Love your feedback as usual ❤
      In terms of rejecting/ accepting our shadows, I don't know if we're necessarily saying different things…
      Perhaps by accepting our shadows, we are, by default, rejecting them as shadows- changing the nature of their being and relevance, as it were.


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