The Gift of Pluralism

I wonder how the moonflower feels
about its sweet sister, the morning glory.
What it must be to know that world longingly awaits another
while you must seek solace hidden under a night sky.
When the world has told you to hide,
it is only the shadows that welcome you in.
And while blooming in the dark has its beauty,
it’s also a lonely way to live.
And who can blame this moon-drenched cousin for wanting to hide.
After all, we too know what happens out there in the light of day.
We are parsed and picked over,
told who and what we need to be,
so that we will finally be loved,
finally let in.
And so we shape shift
until our own original curvature is no longer remembered,
until our masks become indistinguishable from our face,
until the pieces of us allowed out in the sun
forget the parts buried deep in the cold earthen layers of time.
Maybe that is what the moonflower
is doing out there in the dark.
Maybe it’s not hiding after all
but instead trying to remember
who it once was.
Or maybe it knows who it is
and its blooming is a way of saying
“Come find me. I’m still here.”
Which, of course, means that maybe this month
is not just about making it safe for others to come out of the shadows
but also a reminder that we all have pieces and parts buried in the dark.
So friends, what do you say?
Let’s go find them.
Let’s put ourselves back together again.