Author: lyramoon

the neutron star pulls everything in
even light bends under its weight

and we are learning not to freeze
in the presence of such gravity

acknowledge the cold
name it
let it be real in your hands

like snow that will not melt
no matter how long you hold it

but do not build your house there

the negative thought arrives
a messenger with mud on its boots
tracking darkness through your door

you do not turn it away
you ask it why it came
what news it carries
from the far country of fear

then you alchemize

not pretending the lead is already gold
but placing your hands in the fire anyway

transforming what wants to freeze you
into the heat that moves you forward

for every terrible thing
the sutra whispers
there is also

not as erasure
not as distraction
but as the other side of the same coin
spinning in the air
between despair and action

the oppressed have always known this
how to find light in the fuckery
how to share bread
when there is barely enough
how to sing in the dark

because the dark is real
and so is the song

you throw yourself a lifeline
not to ignore the drowning
but to remember you have hands

and hands can pull
and pulling is not the same as pretending
the water is not deep

this is perspective
the holistic view
that sees both the wound and the bandage
the winter
and the spring beneath it

waiting its turn

—lyra moon (placing my hands in the fire anyway)
february 3, 2026

i woke up again and thought
this is still my life

the bottles on the nightstand the ones with my name
printed small and official
they’re the only thing that remembers me anymore

i used to think when someone said i love you
it meant something like stay
but now i think it just means
i’m scared to be alone right now

god i’m sorry but i don’t believe in you

my hands used to make things
now they just lie here
i don’t even want to anymore
that’s how i know something is really wrong

every day i’m learning how easy it is
to take up less space
just stop calling people back
stop washing your hair
stop acting like any of this matters

the truth is the trees would be fine without me
better even
one less person using up the air

i think i’m becoming see through
like those jellyfish we saw that summer
the ones that were barely there

and i’m not fighting it
i’m just letting myself drift
toward whatever comes after wanting
after trying
after the long exhausting work
of being a person

the pills know
the silence knows
my body has always known
where this was going

—lyra moon (barely there / drifting out)
february 2, 2026

i was a moth drawn to my own car headlights
and they were the glass i shattered against

in the dark i became fruit they reached for
then found rotting in their palms
so they crushed what remained

their hunger turned its teeth inward
ate itself alive and called me the poison

somewhere my blood dried brown on fabric
became nothing worth naming
became the wrong evidence
evidence of wrong

they said i planted myself in soil that kills
wore petals that invite the storm
that lightning seeks the tallest tree
and i was foolish for growing

my bones are learning to be clay again
to remember breaking
my lungs are full of water i never swallowed

the men in uniforms stood at the edge of the garden
watching the trampled flowers
asking what the flowers did
to deserve the boot

asking if the flowers fought back
if the garden provoked the burning

somewhere those hands are washing themselves clean
somewhere those hands are still fists
somewhere a door closed on a room with no cameras
and everyone agreed it never opened

i wanted to bloom in the evening
i wanted to cross the field to shelter
instead i learned that wanting is the crime
that softness is the sin
that they will always blame the window
for the stone

—lyra moon (they will always blame the window)
january 30, 2026

here is what i know about walls

we build them with words we think are small
with the casual sorting of us and them
as if people were coins to be counted and stacked
as if belonging were a door we could lock

but every time we say those people
we are choosing to forget
that fear looks the same in every language
that grief has no passport
that love needs no permission to cross borders

othering is the oldest lie we tell ourselves
the one that says our pain matters more
the one that makes a stranger of your neighbor
turns a human into a headline
a story into a statistic

but i have seen what happens when we refuse this
when we lean into the uncomfortable truth
that we are all somebody’s child
all carrying invisible weight
all hoping to be seen

the danger is not in our differences
it is in believing differences are dangerous
in forgetting that every wall we build
we build around ourselves
every gate we lock
we lock from both sides

so i am asking you to remember
that othering begins with a single word
and ends with history we cannot undo
that the opposite of other is not sameness
it is recognition

you in me
me in you
us in the holy ordinary truth
that we were never separate to begin with

—lyra moon (the opposite of other is recognition)
january 29, 2026

when they arrived
carrying their hunger backwards

you became
flame

four winter winds
tried to teach you
their name

but you were already
speaking fire

the kind
that answers back

they thought
you were a door

but you were
the house

the one
they will never enter

the one
that stands

there is a way
birds scatter
when the sky forgets them

and a way
they return singing

having learned
that falling
always ends
in flight

they fled
from their own voices
made loud

some people
cannot survive
in the presence
of what they fear

cannot breathe
the same air
as truth

you have been
the candle
that thanks the wind
for the dance

every attempt
to diminish you

just clears
more space
for burning

staying
is the sharpest form
of winning

the body remembers
everything
as weather

but you are
the season
that comes after

both the seed

and the forest
it becomes

the thing
that was here first

and will be here
when the shadows
forget
how to find
their way home

—lyra moon (staying is the sharpest form of winning)
january 28, 2026