Gravity

Why do we wish on shooting stars,

if they’re just pieces of dust—lost in space.

Untethered from the force that once held it close. Destined to tarry; pulled down by

the same being that digs its claws into my shoulders, and entangles me with the earth—

gravity.

It‘s because we long to believe in something

beyond ourselves—the further, the better. When wishes don’t come true, we blame the stars. I fear my fire has long burned out—

Though I’ve learned from the stars,

it‘s the fall that ignites the fiery.

Still, I drive down backroads for hours on end.

Eyes glued to the sky, breezing aimlessly through stop signs; wishing on helicopters—

Anything bright enough to spark hope.

The only other light that can cut through my darkness, is you.

-m.k.