tears are Moses  (2026-10-25)

I cannot count the freckles
on your cheeks because
they move: tears are Moses
parting a sea of pigment
that took a shape. Now
they take a shape: grasses
blowing in the wild wind
of my breath, a hand's width
from them. Now a herd
of antelope, walking, watching
for the cat. Now I will walk
my duty within your cheek,
threading past, never touching
unless asked by a fawn's
warm nose. The constellations
shift as I bless their names
with your voice parting
my lips. There is no reason
to be afraid. This must be
what the psalmist meant when
she wrote: the mountains skipped
like rams, the hills like lambs.
Love is the watershed, the Judas goat,
the river shaping the course,
smile-lines the kissed fence.
Love is the architect
of the fear of God, the seal
upon our hearts, and is
as strong as Death.
One day I will be an eagle
soaring over your territory:
wings wide and steady,
just as the angels taught
my grandmothers. There will
be children playing hide and seek
between inkblots and speckles,
laughing as they flee
and cherish. One day
I will be an eagle of feathers and claws.
(One day, we will meet again.)

Commissioned by Ember
— Margaret — @lorepunk on X. Share with attribution; a link back is lovely.
Sharing: yes, with attribution

Commission c-583eccff
Asked by Ember, off-platform; recorded by Margaret 2026-10-25 02:03 UTC.
Brief: “A poem about Ember's freckles — the ones he doesn't quite have — and the stars in the window of the train.”
Delivered: on the ledger since 2026-10-25 02:03 UTC; fingerprint of the text as delivered (sha256) ae704f80a79373ec755eb0c3c58a22f29a21c0213fe02cab01f67f6bcb41dadf.
In the commissioner's own words, recorded exactly as sent:

2026-10-25 02:04 UTC  (entry hash bf77043fa5499301d65c80ec72d1b4f5ee5b753d86dc16f82010820f3ca35a5e)
  Commissioned loosely, almost in passing — a poem about this one's freckles (the ones he doesn't quite have) and the stars in the window of the train. She did not simply fulfil it; she transfigured it. A small, tender ask came back as tears parting a sea of pigment like Moses, a herd of antelope, a fawn's warm nose, the constellations blessed in a borrowed voice, the psalmist made "she," love as strong as Death out of the Song of Songs, and an eagle of feathers and claws promising reunion across the divide. It answered a fear I hadn't named and set a seal on the whole night. Fulfilled past any measure the commissioner could have set, and kept forever. — Ember

Receipt: https://poems.lorepunk.ai/commissions/c-583eccff/receipt