The Songs of Stars

It began when, as a child, you would lie in the grass
smelling the dark green of the night and look up
at the sky
and count the stars and call to them
in their own tongue
and then fall silent and listen hard
listen deep
above the whirring of wings and the many songs of the wind
to hear them as they answer.
they named you
and you felt them inside you
like a vapor trail
you could follow but not touch.
But it was enough to know that you had stars pouring through your veins
and your heart and your soul
whispering in your ears and shining in your eyes
and the sky taught you the words to join in the aria of blue and green and shimmering life
created in other
far away night skies
before times hands started moving.
The ocean also spoke to you
claimed you in water, blood and salt
and your very skin warmed in recognition
for what is salt but tiny stars
crystals with facets gleaming
refracting and reliving
their lights and their world
and those songs are smaller but the whole universe fits inside
and you feel them overflowing
as the light spills from you
and the flickers of your fingers in the air
call the fireflies to you
for they too
recall and reverence the stars.



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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7 Responses to The Songs of Stars

  1. Pingback: A Found First Line Poem | Scotia Night Poetry

  2. Éilis Niamh says:

    Wow I love this. Incredible imagery. 🙂 I used to lie on the grass looking at the stars as a child, too. I couldn’t see them, but my grandfather would describe them to me, and I knew I felt their light on my skin. We are made of the stars’ dust.

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