1475: Out of These Wounds, the Moon Will Rise by Jay Hopler - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

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The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

Episode 1475: Out of These Wounds, the Moon Will Rise by Jay Hopler
Host: Maggie Smith
Date: March 12, 2026

Episode Overview

In this episode, host Maggie Smith uses the theme of wishing as a lens to explore hope, attention, and the small rituals that infuse daily life with meaning. She shares personal anecdotes about the act of making wishes—especially the birthday ritual with her children—and transitions into reflecting on how such wishes symbolize hope, even when unlikely to be fulfilled. The episode culminates in a reading of Jay Hopler’s poignant poem, "Out of These Wounds, the Moon Will Rise," which becomes a meditation on longing, the desire for transformation, and the beauty found in the act of wishing itself.

Key Discussion Points & Insights

The Magic of Wishes and Hope

Birthday Wishes Ritual
Maggie describes the enchanting moment of making a wish on a birthday, focusing on her observation of her children during this tradition. She speaks about the visible hope in their faces, highlighting the universal human longing captured in that silent wish.
- "If hope is an emotion you can see on a person’s face, surely it’s visible before a child makes a wish." (01:26)
Wishing Beyond Birthdays
Maggie broadens the act of wishing beyond the birthday candle. She mentions wishing at 11:11 on clocks, on shooting stars, shells tossed into waves, and evocative occurrences in nature.
- “I've been known to make wishes when I see anything in nature that moves me. A rainbow, a low orange moon, a hawk on a light post or tree branch. Because why not? It can't hurt. When it comes to wishing, I think more is more.” (02:17)
Connection Between Wishing and Hope
Maggie draws a parallel between making wishes and holding onto hope, even if the wishes are improbable:
- “Even when a wish is far fetched and seems less than likely, hope is what allows us to make it anyway.” (02:54)

Reflection on the Poem

Introduction to the Poem & Poet
Maggie introduces Jay Hopler’s poem, tying it to her musings about the significance of wishing.
Reading of “Out of These Wounds, the Moon Will Rise”
The poem’s imagery centers on dusk, rain, light, desire for transformation, and impossible wishes. Notably, the poem wishes for a new way of experiencing the world, seeking intimacy with both the "single light" and the "dense, eccentric planets" (the surrounding, complex world).
Poem’s Emotional Core
The poem’s closing lines reflect on the beauty and futility of wishing for the impossible, using the image of orange blossoms and “a vein of stars.” The desire is not for ordinary wishes, but for something unattainable—mirroring Maggie’s earlier reflection that hope and wishing coexist even amid improbability.

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

On Hope Seen in Wishes
- “If hope is an emotion you can see on a person’s face, surely it’s visible before a child makes a wish.” (01:26)
On Making Everyday Wishes
- “I make a wish anytime I look at the clock and it reads 11:11. I make a wish when I see a shooting star or when I find a shell on the beach and throw it back into the waves, my version of tossing a coin into a fountain.” (01:59)
On the Value of Wishing
- “When it comes to wishing, I think more is more.” (02:25)
Transition to the Poem and Its Theme
- “Today’s poem is about wishing, and in that way I think it’s about hope. Even when a wish is far fetched and seems less than likely, hope is what allows us to make it anyway.” (02:54)
From Jay Hopler’s Poem (Read by Maggie Smith)
- “Now that the sun has set and the rain has abated and every porch light in the neighborhood is lit, maybe we can invent something. I’d like a new way of experiencing the world, a way of taking into myself the single light shining at the center of all things without losing the dense, eccentric planets orbiting around it.... Not that we would wish for anything but the impossible.” (03:02–04:07)

Important Timestamps

[00:21] – Maggie Smith’s introduction: birthday traditions and the significance of making wishes
[01:26] – Reflection on hope and visible emotion in making wishes
[01:59] – Everyday wishing rituals (11:11 on clocks, nature, shells, rainbows)
[02:54] – Connection between wishing and hope, leading to the poem
[03:02–04:07] – Reading of Jay Hopler’s "Out of These Wounds, the Moon Will Rise"

Episode Tone & Takeaways

With an intimate, reflective tone, Maggie Smith weaves together family rituals, private longing, and the expansive, persistent spirit of hope found in ordinary moments. The episode gently invites listeners to embrace the habit of wishing—not out of superstition, but as a way to remain open to possibility, to stay rooted in wonder, and to keep hope alive, even with the knowledge that some wishes will remain impossible. The poem by Jay Hopler deepens this mood, offering a meditative affirmation of longing and resilience.

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Transcript2 lines

[00:00]
A
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[00:21]
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I'm Maggie Smith and this is the Slowdown. One of the things I love about celebrating someone's birthday is the magical moment when they're asked to make a wish. There's probably a lit candle in a piece of cake or pie, a brownie, maybe even a donut. And after everyone sings Happy Birthday, the person stops to silently consider what they want most, what's most on their mind or in their heart, before taking a deep breath and blowing out the candle. They know better than to ruin a wish by saying it out loud. I'm especially enchanted by this moment when the wishmaker is one of my own children. My kids and I have a tradition where they get to choose the meal and the dessert I make on their birthdays. I invite our family over for dinner and we all sit down and have that chosen meal together, all 13 of us. I watch their faces closely during that magical moment when they take that deep breath before blowing out the candle I've lit. If hope is an emotion you can see on a person's face, surely it's visible before a child makes a wish. But wishes aren't only reserved for birthdays. I make a wish anytime I look at the clock and it reads 1111. I make a wish when I see a shooting star or when I find a shell on the beach and throw it back into the waves, my version of tossing a coin into a fountain. I've been known to make wishes when I see anything in nature that moves me. A rainbow, a low orange moon, a hawk on a light post or tree branch. Because why not? It can't hurt. When it comes to wishing, I think more is more. Today's poem is about wishing, and in that way I think it's about hope. Even when a wish is far fetched and seems less than likely, hope is what allows us to make it anyway out of these wounds. The Moon Will Rise By Jay Hopler now that the sun has set and the rain has abated and every porch light in the neighborhood is lit, maybe we can invent something. I'd like a new way of experiencing the world, a way of taking into myself the single light shining at the center of all things without losing the dense, eccentric planets orbiting around it. What you'd like is a more attentive lover I suppose. Too bad that slow, wet scorch of orange blossoms floating towards the storm drain is not a vein of stars. We could make a wish on one of them. Not that we would wish for anything but the impossible. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on Instagram @downdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org. Hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown helps you discover new poems and revisit old favorites. You can help us continue showcasing poetry from a diverse swath of authors by making a tax deductible gift. Head to slowdownshow.org donate today.