+++I dread the full moon. When it smiles or winks there is at least a shadowed hope for calm. Tonight, it’s a perfect circle in an empty sky. I steel myself for the night ahead. A moth escapes when I open the barred door. I follow its flight and for an instant its outstretched wings are suspended in the centre of the moon. Darkness here often takes flight to the light. Inside, I hug a soul searching for her freedom. “Annie what are you doing up so late?”
+++“Waiting for the bus.”
+++Her face is folded and refolded like the map of a thousand journeys. “You come to bed, I’ll call you when it gets here.” She’s dressed in her usual Sunday attire: hat, pearls, gloves, patent-leather shoes…and nothing, nothing else. I drape my sweater over her translucent shoulders. Her ninety-year-old skin follows her with a wag as she shuffles down the hall.
+++The evening staff caution as they leave. “It’s been crazy tonight. Good luck.” What do they expect on a psych ward? Especially this unit: the only place on earth willing to house these ancient souls, the last sliver between heaven and hell. Sonja passes me the keys and whispers. “Maggie’s on her way out, I doubt she’ll last the night.”
+++I begin my rounds. The full-moon roar is at maximum volume. Bill’s back at the Kinsmen Hall calling bingo numbers. I think about jotting them down and buying a lottery ticket. Albert moans as he wrestles with the ghost of his lost limb. The halls echo his lament: the fiercest pain burns in the shadowed places, the empty spaces. Down the hall, Jessie yells over and over, “Help me! I don’t know where I am. I want to go home!”  Purgatory is where you are Jess, and I’m sorry to say, you are home. Charles is teetering on the circle’s edge. With each breath he resists the pull of the moon. I kiss his bristled cheek. “It’s okay Charlie, fly. It’s gotta be better than here.”
+++Maggie is a tangled mess of shit, blankets and restraints. “Hang on Maggie, I’ll get you cleaned up.” She’s putting up her last fight. I’m amazed by her strength; her fists and feet fly as she struggles to surface for air. My hand slips over my belly. I lean over, whisper in her ear. “Maggie, I’m here, I love you. You’re so beautiful.” She stops her frantic fight to tune in to yesterday’s song. She can’t hear it anymore. Her nails dig in as she grabs my arm. I sing to her heart. “Maggie, I’ll tell you a secret. I’m having a baby.” Somewhere in her lostness she knows not to hurt me and she releases. Her thinning hair slips through my fingers as I stroke her weary head. Against my other hand my child, no bigger than my thumb, kicks and circles. “Remember your babies Maggie and the little ones you taught? They all remember you. You’re a good mother, a good teacher, a good wife, a lovely, lovely person.” Peace falls like a blanket and she settles.
+++I stay with her until she sleeps. My scrubbed shoes glow from the hall’s ribbon of light. So often I miss the holy ground, blind to the luminous thread that connects us, but not tonight. Within me a tiny bud nestles and grows. From my open hand the petals of a Centennial Rose scatter and dance toward the light. I am present at the centre of the moon. I am in full flight, wings extended from one’s beginning to another’s end.

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