I’d been trying, casually,
for years, to photograph lightening.
Those spectacular bolts
of pure energy, the spark
of Life. And I’ve failed.
Until last night…

Another storm in the desert,
horizoned after dark. The full moon,
just about to rise, felt fearful.
It had to travel through the tail
of the storm, to peruse its Life. I saw

curtain sheer lightening blazing
its sheeted totality, its amalgamation
of all bolts of electric might,
diffused into lambency. Moon
tried to rise swiftly, to flee
the gap in cloud-stormed fingers.

But lightning struck Moon’s hiding place,
crafted a lighted sweep,
blue-glazed, and sweetened
by worshiper’s gaze…

I yelled out loud, from my perch
on the patio chair; I yelled
“I got it!” And laughed in delight!
It wasn’t a bolt from beyond,
it wasn’t a streak of reticulated light,
it wasn’t even an outline of energy.
It was all-life, suspended
in a flash of digital binaries,
it filled my camera's eye,
this basic primordial Being.
It eclipsed Moon's light.

And I cheered Moon on,
even as I saw her plight.
She was reflection.
Lightning is Life.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Photo by Erin Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 9/30/04