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.
Books by the Editors
Passionately Ran, Compassionately Fed.