Cancer Moon
feels like saltwater memory,
like candlelight trembling
in the window of an old house,
like love that remembers
even what was never said.
She is the emotional center
that feels through tenderness,
through intuition,
through the quiet ache
of holding too much with gentle hands.
Her heart is tidal.
It moves in cycles,
in pull and retreat,
in sacred waves
that know when to cradle
and when to hide.
Cancer Moon
finds emotion in home,
in softness,
in the smell of something familiar,
in the voice that says
you are safe here now.
She feels everything
through the body first-
through the chest,
the stomach,
the ancient instinct
to protect what she loves.
There is something maternal
about this Moon,
even when she is breaking.
She nurtures,
remembers,
gathers the broken pieces
and tries to make them holy again.
And if she retreats,
it is not because she does not care.
It is because some hearts
must return to their shell
to survive the sharpness of the world.
She was not made
for emotional indifference.
She was made
for devotion,
for memory,
for the kind of love
that lingers in the walls
long after the door has closed.
Cancer Moon
does not simply feel.
She carries-
deep, ancestral,
and luminous
as the sea under moonlight.