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My Mother Talks to the Moon

by Zeina Azzam

The moon emerges, 
a sickle, wisp of an arc,
the true beginning

of a month. We believe this
and the eyes will swear to it, testify.
My mother teaches me how to talk to the moon

at this tender time
as we find the fingernail in sunlit sky
traveling to early nightfall:

“هلّ  هلالك، ريتك  علينا  شهر  مبارك”

“As your crescent appears, we appeal to you for a blessed month”

She holds my small hand
as we survey the sky over Beirut together
and I repeat her words

bobbing my head to their rhythm
and savoring the rhyme of 
your crescent and blessed: hilalak هلالك and mubarak مبارك.

To this day I sense
your presence, Mama,
at the birth of each month.

I remember your soft, lilting words,
say them out loud to the crescent moon,
think of beginnings 

rather than endings
even though you’ve been gone
for many years.

Shirin Abedinirad, Evocation, 2013. Land art, Central Desert, Iran. Responding to what the artist describes as “one of the formidable problems with desert dwelling: the lack of water,” the work uses mirrored circles partially buried in golden sand to conjure “the ultimate mirage in the desert.” Reflecting the sky across the dunes as if it were pools of water, the installation transforms absence into illusion, longing, and wonder, challenging the fragile boundary between perception and nature. Artwork courtesy of featured artist Shirin Abedinirad.

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