No Fallen Star

No Fallen Star

No Fallen Star

Bright star shinning down on me like you’ve got something to say:
haven’t I heard it already?
What are you doing up there anyway?
Has anyone ever asked you that before?

Was it hard to watch me fall? —
Over and over and over again like I wasn’t tired of it;
like it never hurt at all.

It did, it does – so much.

So much that I’m scared to let it go.
Will you teach me how?
How to let it go.

Who am I without my pain?
Who am I without my dreams?

I don’t want to know.

No one.
Nothing, nothing at all.

So I hold on.
Onto my dreams, and onto my light.

But I know they’re not the same;
because pain is an old friend that makes you feel guilty for leaving,
and dream is just another word for a gentle God that keeps believing — in the strength I take for granted, the strength I wished away.

Don’t you remember that?
I do.

Bright star.
My bright star,
shinning down on me like you need me to hear you, like you want me to hear you…finally.

I will.
I am.
Yes, I’m listening.

Bright star.
My bright star,
don’t fade out.
Don’t fade away.
Promise me you’ll keep shinning.

You’re so bright.
I could never lose sight of you,
even if I tried —

I promise.

Bright Star, Self-Portrait 2014.

Written July 30, 2014.