BURY THE STARS

“They’ll try to bury the stars and
convince you that the moon is enough,
don’t you let them.”

As a child my mother held me up to the sky,
and showed me my chosen star. The brightest,
silver grey one winked at me each night
before I lay my head upon my pillow.

Until one dark night when I cried myself
to sleep, my starlight angel covered
by clouds, unable to make our appointment,
game called on account of weather.

I stopped looking for that star
until the day you came into my life, remember
that walk along the riverside, watching
the moon’s reflection on the smooth water?

We found an old rowboat, untied it and decided
to take a trip to the moon, we sailed
across the water until we could touch
it with our mortal fingertips.

We blessed each other with moonbeams, then drank
‘til we had our fill. As we rowed to the shore,
a deeper darkness befell us as clouds rolled over
the moon, leaving stars as our only guide.

For the first time in years, I searched for my star,
the one my mother gave me. My childlike wisdom
had deserted me, as each star seemed brighter than the next.
At last I recalled my mother’s instruction,

“They’ll try to bury the stars and
convince you that the moon is enough,
don’t you let them.”