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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

Lunar Retreat

By: Tamara Kreutz

There is no stopping this slow ebbing, no way to turn back the clock. The forces of gravity are

invisible and unshakable, and no matter what we do or how we feel about them... Over many millions

of years, we’ll continue to grow apart.

~Marina Koren, The Atlantic, September 30, 2021

You are leaving

us, an inch

and a half

a year.

Like me in high school,

ghosting my first

boyfriend, you will shrink

and dim—so minutely,

a handful of a million

years down

the road, we’ll look up

at night and think, “The moon

used to shine

there, didn’t she?”

Are you sneaking off

for a weekend

of self-care—sun

salutations and facials

to smooth your face,

weathered by so many

years of squinting

down at us? Will you

then return, renewed,

to pull our oceans,

mark our months?

Or have you fallen

out of love, tired

of waxing and waning?

Are you fatigued from dancing

in our orbit?

Lighting our darkness,

giving predictable tides,

while we offer nothing

back besides

flags and footprints?

You pull

away. We

yank back cords

of our magnetic energy,

a celestial tug-of-war

you will someday win,

as you twist knots loose

and spin away towards freedom.


Tamara Kreutz is a middle and high school English teacher who has taught at international schools around Latin America. She is currently on hiatus from teaching to stay home with her young son. Poetry is the way she creates meaning for herself in the stories happening around her.


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