its glow softly touches everything under it; it illuminates my entire body, only under the gaze of the moon do i feel holy.
“Remember the moon, know who she is.”
– Joy Harjo, from “Remember,” How We Became Human: Selected Poems
when the moon is full, so am i. there’s an ache in my stomach, much more than hunger could ever be. i’m like a wolf lurking around the forest at dusk, we’re both looking to start a war. the wolf and i share the same ache, the same desire in our eyes as we howl to the full moon. it’s a love song, a lullaby, a call to be welcomed back into the arms of artemis. we’ve missed the hunt by a few millenia, but we’re as hungry as ever.
only under the moon are we allowed to feel the depth of our emotions. placing hunger down in the shine of the sun only masks its terror. the glow of the moon shows hunger for all that it is, something uncontainable. the wolf and i slide our hunger in the backs of our mouths, eventually spilling out whenever we unclench our jaws. we’re always unsatiable until the new full moon, then the cycle repeats.
at nightfall let your wretched emotions roam freely, though keep it on a leash during the day. your hunger is something sacred, it’s consuming in all the right ways. it shoots through your veins the way artemis’ arrows strike the kill. sometimes it will leave you bruised and wondering if hunger is a monster—it isn’t, not always. let the arrow stay in your side, we all need a wound at some point. we all need a scar, a reminder that some things never leave.
pull back your curtains at night, let the moon tuck you in. soon artemis will gather for the hunt again, be ready.