Dec 2016
From the earth the stars
look like they could reach out to one another
and hold hands,
link fiery arms,
and share burning kisses.
But I imagine they're lonely,
just minute blinking lights to one another,
fires extinguished,
in a single breath,
flames dulled to nothing,
like pinched candles.
Can you feel what they do,
As they watch each brother die?
Not close enough to know,
not close enough to hold,
not close enough to save?
I can.
look like they could reach out to one another
and hold hands,
link fiery arms,
and share burning kisses.
But I imagine they're lonely,
just minute blinking lights to one another,
fires extinguished,
in a single breath,
flames dulled to nothing,
like pinched candles.
Can you feel what they do,
As they watch each brother die?
Not close enough to know,
not close enough to hold,
not close enough to save?
I can.
This is one of my favourite poems ever, written by one with whom I regrettably no longer have contact, who was 16 years old at the time. I have read it aloud many times, and it never fails to bring tears to my eyes. Once, as an experiment, I read it to a poetry group I belong to, planning in advance not to read the last line, and was surprised to feel hardly any emotion. Then I read it again, with that brief last line in place, and in the familiar way, the tears sprang unbidden to my eyes.
