Walk on the Moon

My love of writing comes from my mother. Forty years ago, she was on a youth group mission trip to North Dakota when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the moon. I remember the excitement of those days, when every piece of space news was treated with incredible awe and anticipation.

When mom returned from North Dakota, she wrote these words to remember the moment.

The black night sparkles
With the brilliant gems set
In its obsidian crown.

Above, limitless
Space stretches, a challenge
To the minds of humans.

Man has conquered space.
Now he walks the moon
Amid the gems of night.

He has within him
The power and glory
Of God himself.

Man walks the moon and
Down below, night children
Stalk the ghetto streets.

Thus the paradox
Of man's infinite mind.
He may walk the moon.

But he fails to heed
The cry of anguish of
His fellow mortals.

Little lower than
The angels, the psalmist
Sings. How much lower?

So far to go to
Reach the angels, so much
Farther than the moon

Margie Greenwood
July 26, 1969