These Stars

In this earthen cave,
her mother’s womb,
she prayed for the rain,
the bringer of truth.

“Mother, may I see the stars?”

A child, she’d come so far.

“Mother, wash the earth, so
I may see the hidden gift
beneath the soil, the dirt –
no hidden thing reveals its worth.”

Then the rain fell…

upon the girl, it washed
the clumps – an earthen swirl
of ankle deep puddles,
glinting against worldly pearls.

With glory, mane unfurled,
above her, she saw the sun,
the gift, her mother’s love.
Her fate? At last, it had come.

“Mother, I must rise
through the clouds, to the sun,
into the blackness,
whereupon, I will greet them –
the cold, cosmic children
who glimmer feebly in
their sadness.”

She rose to meet her gift.
Her face, golden, glowing,
a gift in itself, saw her
mother, down below, and wept
with longing for the absence to come.

It was the first time in ages
that the night had been undone.

©️ Obol, 2019.

From the drafts folder. I honestly don’t remember starting this one.

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