The Star

The Star

All stars are by their nature merciful.

As a child, I dreamt you lived in the tender

Day-glow constellations, even when their light

had long since dimmed with time.

I always did love everything that shines:

The gaudiest poisons. The last light of the milk-glazed moon.

Night is in cahoots with the perilous moon.

But you, my maiden, are precise and merciful,

A beacon on the water where the white loon shines.

I’ve had to come to certain terms, make a tender

Peace with the wreckage of time.

So swing high your lantern with its buoyant light.

If there’s one thing I love it’s the promise of light:

The brilliant sheen of a fattened moon,

And your celestial chant in measured time.

Gleam on, beloved merciful.

The darkness seeps in with a tender

Ease, but only your song shines.

In my desolation, the black asp shines.

Cure my midnight with your avid light.

I’ve lived too long in this tender

dream, with only the guidance of the trickster moon.

Bestow your luminescence, my merciful

On all those who dream in measured time.

And what if your light won’t reach me in time?

You know what they say about all that shines

Oh, starry mother, be merciful

All I know is a dearth of light

And the lunatic whispers of the dire moon.

I walk the path of the tender

Fool, not knowing wisdom from this tender

Hope. I pray for discernment to arrive in time.

Love me best, barks the swindler moon.

But Sister of Stars, only your voice shines.

I’ve spent whole nights in the arc of your light,

Orchestral, sleek and merciful.

Witness the waning of the slothful moon. Shine

On me with your tender charm. In time

I’ll know that your light is merciful.

 

--Kristen McHenry