Fine line black tattoo of a sun and crescent moon with dangling dotted lines and stars on the inner forearm near the wrist, with the word Psalms and the reference 148:3.

Sun and crescent moon on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a sun with a radiating outline and a crescent moon, joined by dotted lines that hang down with small star shapes along them. The text Psalms sits above the sun and 148:3 sits beside the moon, all in fine black linework with light stippled detail. The photograph is taken from above on a patterned fabric background, with the wrist and hand with dark nail polish filling the upper part of the frame.

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the lot of you, and mind the lamp, it has a temper. You want the story of Eliab the cloth-dyer, who had no patience for the moon. Every night she stood on the flat roof above the dye vats and told it to be quiet, because its light turned the indigo to mud, and the sun had already taken all the good colours for itself.

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One evening the sun went down red over the hills, and she climbed the ladder with a bundle of wet wool under her arm, meaning to hang it before the dew. The moon was already up, thin as a paring. Beside it the stars came out one by one, pricking the sky the way a seamstress pins a hem, and each one hung on a thread of its own.

She stopped with the wool in her arms. Her grandmother had sung the same song every dye season, the one with the line about the sun and moon and all the stars of light being bidden to praise the Lord. Eliab had always thought it a strange thing to command a lamp to do anything. Now she counted the stars on their threads and lost count at forty, and she laughed out loud, and the moon, I swear to you, seemed to lean closer to hear.

She hung the wool out that night, and by morning the blue had taken perfectly, bright as the sea off Joppa. Ask any dyer in the town and they will tell you the cloth never sat so true. Now, bed. Bed, I said.

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