Stars
Stars
Four buzzes
Wake me up,
Loud in the quiet
Dark.
A seconds-long debate
In my head
Before I jump from my bunk bed
Because who needs a ladder
And why act thirteen
When you could act seven?
I crouch in front of the window
Watching
The 3 a.m. sky.
I can never remember
How pretty the stars are,
Even though
I look at them
So often.
The sky isn’t black.
It’s dark blue,
I think,
But maybe if there was no
Light
From humans
It would be black.
Stars are different sizes
But to us
Some are only brighter
Because they are closer.
I love to feel
Alone,
Small
Like this,
Not because someone wants me to
But because I am
A fleck
On a speck
In the endlessness of space.
Then a meteor
A shooting star
A streak of magic
Whatever you want to call it –
Why I am awake.
I am so lucky
To watch
The universe
Be itself,
It’s like hearing your friend’s secrets.
I wait
Minutes
For another streak
This one smaller
Before my heavy eyelids
Win
And I crawl back into bed.
The universe
Is beautiful.
This is a poem specifically about the meteor showers that happened recently, but I think it could be applied to any night.
The Voice
September 2024
A Letter for Everyone on YWP – One Last Time
Dear YWP, The first time I wrote you a letter I was 13. The second, 15. I'm 18 now; how time flies, my lovely people. And this is the last letter. My name is Stargirl – to you on YWP. To everyone else...
Sweater of Me
Songs of my father’s belly laughter flow through the eye of the needle and around the loom with each abdominal contraction. It reminds me of home. Snip I miss it. A downpour soaks fuzzy yarn. The sc...
Fragments of Heartbreak in Paris
This morning I watched as someone I love broke their heart. Over and over, I watched them wander through the secret streets of Paris, clumsily holding their heart in their hands. It wasn't their fault...
Somewhere
You spend most of your childhood wanting to grow up. You dream of all the things you'll do, the people you'll meet, the freedom of a life where you are the captain of your own ship. Only to be met wit...
What We Give (Who We Are)
to tell a story is to give life — to tell a story is to reward the legacy of all those who are precedents, the tales as old as time that have been lived and passed down for millenn...
The Ocean
The Ocean is a wild thing. She rises and falls, crashes and swells. Out she calls, luring lonely souls to her watery depths and sand strewn beaches. Some fear her, some love her, and some have never s...
My Letter to the World
My name is Amelia. I am 17 years old And I am afraid for my future. I am tired of old men Deciding how I will live, Determining the world in which I will raise my children. My own parents have cried...
What Kamala Harris Is Doing Right
It's only been about four weeks since President Joe Biden announced he would end his reelection campaign, and endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris for President. In the week following the endorsement...
Stars
Four buzzes Wake me up, Loud in the quiet Dark. A seconds-long debate In my head Before I jump from my bunk bed Because who needs a ladder And why act thirteen When you could act seven? I crouch in ...
Trippin'
Down the Interstate, Stuffed in an SUV, A perfect suburban one. You shake your knees. Mom tells you to stop shaking. It’s 10 a.m., yet the brands of Frito-Lay have been selfishly consumed. Mom’s be...
Thinking About You
I never thought about you in the daytime When the sun spread like melted butter over the dwindling Blueberry bushes. I’d scavenge with them For the tiniest hint of The sour-sweet fruit, my shirt Like ...
The Poppy Flower
Delicate and soft, the most beautiful poppy flower stands before me. Gently swaying in the breeze, her tender face gleaming up toward the sun. Warm dew settles at my bare feet, fresh grass tickles my ...
A Letter To My Old Self
Don’t tell someone you’re fine When you know it’s all a lie Don’t be afraid to tell them the truth When they make you cry It’s okay to be upset When things don’t turn out right But always remember Th...
Counting Flowers
I rang the doorbell to your heart, and throughout your house it rang, a bouquet of astilbes in one hand and in the other a pink dove. I carved it of cherry wood just for you, my future and my love.Whe...
Cradling a Glint of Inspiration
Inspiration Is such a delicate thing, Such an intricate dance Between emotions and ideas, A soft sparkle That flashes when you least expect it, That sometimes you can only see When you squint and will...
A Frigid Embrace
With an icy heart, I watch her play her part, Casting a spell on the land. To many, she takes everything grand. With the dark blanket of clouds above, Many hate what I’ve grown to love. She dances wit...
Home
When I set foot on the shadow of my idea-turned-choice, I realized that I had willed something I wasn't able to believe into something I could no longer refrain from knowing.It was then that I smelled...
I'm From the Land of Smiles
I'm from the Land of Smiles, the beautiful country with temples and palaces where monks and royalty live. I'm from a mind of great creativity and words, and a mind of artistry and language. I'm from a...