Moonborn

Aura Guerra-Artola

I am the Moon’s daughter.

Forever shifting rooms

within the skin I call home.

My light has crossed the tides,

so have my shadows.

I leave pieces—

memory like bark,

fallen

between full and hollow.

I lay in the hands of the earth

what in mine has completed

its cycle—

in case she wills

that it might bloom anew

for someone else.

More from Aura Guerra-Artola ↓

• @g.a.aura on Instagram
• Her book, How to Live with a Cat on Your Chest and a Whale in Your Heart, is out now

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO