Is a poem ever done? Do you go back and re-read it and think, “hey, let’s give this another shot.” I have a few poetry mentors who always say, “Rewrite, edit, repeat. Read it out loud. How about word choice? Do you have the right words?”
I remember writing this poem last year and was moved from words and research by Carl Sagan. He wrote about how all life is the same matter of stars, we are made from the stars. I remember one of my friends talking about something similar and how we have our ancestors living in us. She referred to how our relations (all our relations – the birds, animals, fish, insects, reptiles, dinosaurs, and the various incarnations of humans) buried in the ground are always decomposing and coming back to life in various life forms like water and the air we breathe. This sounds profound, to me anyway. It’s also part of our evolution, life on this earth. I’m trying to make sense of it. Also, I find it inspiring to think what makes us awesome is that we are made of the same matter that makes up the world, the galaxy around us. We’re carbon and we have aether floating in our dna. And we’re always evolving.
Maybe it was the solar eclipse I witnessed this morning on the internet with my family. It’s something I ponder, wonder, dream about. And I thought I would take a look at this poem again and see if I can revive it a bit and see what happens. To see the original version see it here. Keep writing, keep dreaming. Art helps us to evolve. Art makes a difference in this world. Stay true.
the stars fall
into my eyes and offer
their death as a peace offering from
ancestors who called out to the stars
with hands extended to the aether above
stars never fade
into a future
for the dreamer
the stars, they fall.
the stars don’t fall, they fly
across dreamless skies
to be caught
the stars fly across wanting to be caught
on the tip of your tongue
so, as the star fades
it travels to the centre
of your soul
dust from the stars
a cosmic mix with oxygen and carbon travels
the capillary paths that awaken the cells in
our bodies encoded long ago with
secrets of who we really are
stars float in the big sky above
at night i swim across the galaxy
the milky way
where ancestors wait
amped up for the next big wave
carving out a path
for me to follow
the stars want you
to breathe in the aether
be part of you
so you can be closer
to the real you
the real human
the stars believe
we are stars too
I wonder how many times I have been told we come from the stars, how often I was told to look up. I, too, wonder whether any poem is ever completed, and whether we are the stars writing themselves. I wonder: when we cross over, do we walk the Milky Way road home?
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I like that – ‘whether we are the stars writing themselves’. I think we moonwalk maybe even sunwalk back home to the milky way.
ps. maybe this poem will become another poem… maybe you will write one too??