lashed to the mast

poor brave Odysseus! 

how could he possibly know 

the loyal crew 

who lashed him faithfully to the mast 

would stop her ears 

and sing her sweet siren song 

not from jagged rocks 

on the distant shore, 

but from the bow and fore decks 

of his own sturdy craft. 

One of the most remarkable things about the moon’s little sister was her incredible musical power. Several times she had sung along with a popular performer on radio or CD for a moment or two in his presence. His heart melted in utter astonishment at the intensity and power and clarity and versatility of her voice. She seemed to overpower the recorded performance and capture the song for her own. It was as if the recording were a knock-off copy of her performance. He often wished that she would sing to him, and yet there had never been a convenient time or way to express this desire. It was a desire that he had never experienced before. Music had always been an important and powerful force in his life, but he had never been so wholly disarmed and smitten as he was when she sang. He had never connected at such a primal level to the heart of one so gifted.

He sometimes wondered if ever he would dare to ask her to sing to him. It was so personal and intoxicating when he had experienced it that he was awestruck and held captive in some mysterious way he did not understand. Someday, lashed to the mast, he would sail into the jaws of this sweet torment.