The #SuperBloodMoon IS a miracle

In white light 
way past midnight
On the edge of a crater:

Full moon belly sky
The yawn of infinity
By her gentle face
White and beaming
So bright, the sky was white
My footsteps hewn in silver
And the stars disappeared.

And you’re there too
You on your side
In your own world
so different from mine

Me: reaching toward the dawn

In this space between in darkness
We still share.

You: just beginning
that climb to midnight

But we’re underneath this same moon
Generous and giving.

And you look up, too,
beneath your distant city lights,
Over scaly edges softened
by low clouds.
You’re there on your overlook
as I’m crossing my ravine

And also:

You’re there, too – outside a club in Manhattan
And you – leaving work in Flynt, Michigan.
And you sleeping on a broken sidewalk in Chicago.
And you cruising with your top down on Rodeo Drive.

And you, heartbroken.
And you, in love.
And you, all alone.
And you, surrounded on all sides.

You, on a leaking boat, fleeing for your life.
And you on your yacht with Cristal and a kilo of coke.
You, with a gun in your hand.
And you, with your hands in the air.

And you through your window, with your IV morphine drip
And you, with your first child, one day old.

You who swing Right
And you who turn Left
You in your Sukkah
You on the Hajj
You holding a rosary
And you with your copy of Dianetics
You in your ashram
You kneeling beside wooden pews
You in a forest

And me in my desert

You who are rich
And you are struggling
You who cast stones
And you who plant seeds

You, drawing your last breath
And you drawing your first.

A warble of language washes over the earth as we gasp and say



And all of us under the same moon

while she shines back.

And when she goes red tonight
A tiny smudge spreading down her face
And we watch with our eyes wide open
You see it
And so do I
Across the distances on earth
we can’t control
And across the distances in earth
we create
Even side by side —-
But look! The moon is gone and now we can see the stars!

Like any other night
And maybe this time we’ll remember
As we marvel at this wonder:

The skeptics are wrong! This moon IS a miracle.

For as we watch her face go dark
Our eyes wide open beneath this rare and precious

Our sameness is illuminated
Under the exact same sky


About the Author
Sarah Tuttle-Singer, author of Jerusalem Drawn and Quartered and the New Media Editor at Times of Israel, She was raised in Venice Beach, California on Yiddish lullabies and Civil Rights anthems. She now lives in Jerusalem with her 3 kids where she climbs roofs, explores cisterns, opens secret doors and talks to strangers, and writes stories about people. Sarah also speaks before audiences left, right, and center through the Jewish Speakers Bureau, asking them to wrestle with important questions while celebrating their willingness to do so. She also loves whisky and tacos and chocolate chip cookies and old maps and foreign coins and discovering new ideas from different perspectives. Sarah is a work in progress.