The Way Possessing Light / Should Feel

Untitled (in-progress) Poem

I want to soften -

I want my breath to come easy.

I want to exhale in peace,

trusting my lungs to carry my heart

to bed when it’s too tired

and falling asleep.

*
Next door a child

brandishes a sparkler

with sticky, clenched hands

and wide green eyes,

the way possessing light -

if only for a moment -

should feel

(in reality, there is no possession, only passing through).

*
I visited with a friend yesterday

and sent a text to my sister today.

Rooted in love,

I feel seen by lighthouses.

I am loved,

Maybe this love is enough.

*

My wee one squirms in their sleep

and

I watch the constellations above

pulsing in an Upstate sky,

flickering

like a signal that’s grown faint,

its formal crackle now quieter,

like a frequency forgotten but on fire still.

*
I learned long ago that

“the night was alive with a thousand voices” -

lately, I’ve feared they’ve faded away.

*

Tonite, they return (having never left).

This night, their song swells, a million strong.