a poem for a glorious night

The moon's face says it all:
"Oh gosh,"
as it looks down on us.
It tries to look away 
but can't.

"Everything's fine," counters Sun.
"In fact, everything is grand.
And whatever isn't will be
on another turning.
Just look at it - 
all glorying around!"

I stare into Sun with closed lids.
To my mind rush all of the dear ones
for whom tonight cannot be
a glorious night
because of intervening contingencies:
death, sorrow, pain, loss.
And the fact of this night's glory
intermingles with prayers for mercy
and my heart picks up a corner
to share sorrow's load
interconnected as I am, as we are
to beg mercy
to hoist up hope
while the night turns over,
glorying all around.