Phototaxis
On loving like a moth
I am fascinated with moths. The way they orient so hard towards the moon, they burn.
That’s how I love.
In my home culture, the one I abandoned many years ago, a moth — or a night butterfly — has been associated with promiscuous women. I was too young then to understand why, but I can see it now. That intense desire to touch something you can’t have. Burning every night even if it kills you.
But like with most beliefs about women in most cultures, moths (and women) have been misunderstood. They don’t want to burn. They simply don’t have a choice.
I am a moth,
trapped in your brilliant light,
disoriented
by my own desire
for your burning love —
just for one final night,
but dawn is close
and I am running out of time.
© Lana E. Taylor
ᚂᚐᚅᚐ ᚈᚐᚔᚂᚑᚏ
Moths navigate by moonlight, their whole bodies oriented toward the light so they always know where the land is. The far-away, unreachable moon is their only guide. Biology calls it phototaxis. A perfect direction that never fails.
And then there’s fire and light bulbs. Too bright, too close, disorienting.
Moths do not want to get trapped or burn, but the light source is so intense that they get trapped. The fixed angle becomes a spiral they cannot leave. And they burn.
like moth wings catch flame beneath the moon’s knowing gaze you set me ablaze © Lana E. Taylor ᚂᚐᚅᚐ ᚈᚐᚔᚂᚑᚏ
Sending love and light,
Lana
of Salt and Silence