by Charles B. Cross
A shooting star in its wild ’n’ wide sadness,
Shot down all other stars in bright ’n’ blind’n madness.
In the idle blackness of space with nuthin to a-shoot ‘n’ arraign
In a dolorous daze, it sighted the world with its pain ‘n’ aimed.
The world caught the star who was a-fall’n ‘n’ fast and
Held it like a babe who hungry and afraid grew brass ‘n’ asked,
“Little one. Why damage the sky so?
How will th’future know ‘n’ go with such little light shown?”
“Why should I care one way or nother-
With no light of love or a loving mother?
The world smiled with a secret it gently unveiled to the child,
“Love is here. It’s what makes us all, and is only as loud as the light you bring.
I should know; I am your mother, little star; for I am the mother of all things.”
The little star grew so bright
That its heart
proliferated more stars ever seen in one night.
And this is a story for every girl ‘n’ boy who ponders in space
And searches above for what is there at birth
-that thing called love.
Charles B. Cross is a young writer out of East Tennessee who's recently made his debut with a book of poetry titled If I Settle Down... The author is currently working on his second collection of short stories and poetry called Pedestrian.
Belle Rêve Literary Journal is a southern literary experience. Our mission is to capture everything that makes the South and its residents unique through the best contemporary literature we can find. We publish new works weekly.
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