Let the past have its dominion tonight,let the winded rain blow in and shakewindows loose in their softening frames,
nothing that hurt you once can hurt you again.You are free to roam this land without fear,without jealousy, intimidated by no one,
books you have studied, you read againfor the first time, their words realignedon fresh cut pages, reintroducing themselves.
Behind all those overspilling clouds, the mooncatches light still and sends it to you, unbidden,but you would know to ask for it if it never came,
darkness would tell you how much you needthe light, hands outstretched would tell you.Let the moon reap its hidden dominion tonight,
let reflected rays guide the way back, the returnto the child you once were, sitting under starswith an uncle, a protector, guardian from fear,
who told you the names of what you saw,lifted you onto his shoulders to get you as closeas possible to heaven, the place you both
believed awaited your arrival with angels singing,safe at last from whatever darkened visions creptinto your dreams, terrors of the dead, and the living.
Trace the patterns your pointing finger made,star to star, map made of myths, horns, spear-tips,flanks of a roving bear, true companions of the moon,
whose round face you loved above all other shapesin the sky, sensing even then that her silver arrowstook aim against whatever threatened you harm. [End Page 137]
Jesse Graves is the author of two collections of poetry, Tennessee Landscape with Blighted Pine (2011), and Basin Ghosts (2014). He won the 2015 James Still Award for Writing about the Appalachian South from the Fellowship of Southern Writers, and the 2014 Phillip H. Freund Award in Creative Writing from Cornell University.