Complete Issue - Shippensburg University

25THE MOONPATHP a m Pe r k i n s -Fr e d e r i c kNo matter where Ann stood,the moon laid a pathto her feet.Once, while tryingto climb the Norway maplein the school yard,another kid had told her“If you have enough faithyou can walk on the moon’s path.”How much is enough?And how do you tell?Walking back to the tentthrough the fragrant darkin New Hampshire that summer,after campfire,Ann smelled pine,wet dock, draining canoes,the damp cellar smellof a lake at night,and two girls slipped with Annfrom the crocodileline of campers and padded outonto the dock, greyin the moonlight,warm to the soles.As always, the moonlaid its scissoring pathstraightto each of them.Four, counting Ann’sinvisible companionwhom they’d grown to accept,as her had parents,not knowing what elseto do withthe shadowless Celestewaited for, left presents,saved seats, givenjelly beans (“Leave themin the crotch of the tree;she won’t eat in front of us.”)Ann said she was nearly readyto try the path,solid as aluminum foilcrinkling to the horizon.They were all nearly ready;faith bent and flickeredabout them like a firein sighing wind.Then Ann gave a highfunny whisper: “She’sgoing to try it!O stop her someonedon’t let her -- ” andthey strained their eyes,almost able to seea shadow on the shortdock ladder detach itself,move over the bright foldingand unfolding. “She’sdoing it, she’s walkingon the moonpath”and they could nearly seea fainting, a dimming,a thin blot moving outon the rich and winklingglimmer. Their shoulderstouched, they clasped. Annstrained forwardfrom their arms. “Celestedid it, I can do it, I can!I got faith, watch and see!”And she was down the ladderstepping forwardfrom the bottom rung.Communal faith soaredto a blinding knowledgeof walkingand the shame of nothaving believed. The twosurged forward to the edgeof the dock as Ann’s footmet wrinkling silveras Ann let go the ladderbeatific smile,outstretched arms,“Celeste!Wait!”and sank.The rest was a confusionof hauling her up againand standing, all threeon the dock, listeningto Ann’s dripping,watching the moonpath,clear of any darkness,glow to the farthest edge.“Did she really do it?”“Yes. I didn’t thinkshe’d leave me.”“But it was so beautiful.”“Look! A cloud’s coveringthe moon, the path’sgoing! Can shecome back?”“No,” said Ann, wetstraight-backed. “No.Not now.”Originally published inNo Sorrow that LightWon’t Try to Wipe Away.Middleborough, MA: RockVillage Publishing, 2006.Pam Perkins-Frederick is the Bucks County Poet Laureate, a fellow at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts, a Robert Fraserpoetry contest winner, and was honored by the Pennsylvania Cente for the Book in 2008. She has been published inthe United States and abroad. Her book, There is No Sorrow that Light Won’t Try to Wipe Away, was published in2006. She earned a M.F.A. from Vermont College and loves books, water, plums, puns, and thunderstorms.