Starborn

The Distance

0413.3025

“I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.” — Hafiz (translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

Who was I to the stars?

Was I once another poet, in another time?

A mouth of flame, a scribe of truth?

My being is pulled—this way, then that—

summoned by the pomegranate’s promise,

its madness, its ache, its unbearable desire.

How can I feel this one thing

as if I were the fruit itself,

pressed in someone’s trembling hand—

as if another soul has tasted mine,

and recalls the honey,

the meaning of me…

my breath.

Drawn to the depth of eyes,

as though they hold a memory—

a trace of a life once lived,

an echo of something once known,

a peace that speaks my name,

who was I?

The poets I venerate—

I carry their words like prayers,

as if they were spun from the same silk

that weaves my breath

and moves my hands.

And now my heart feels left behind—

not lost, but waiting,

hidden in the folds of some forgotten time.

Let my mouth open like light,

let my hands serve love,

and only love.

And still—

with sorrow stilled,

my breath silent into the dusk—

I ask:

Who was I to the stars?

❦

m.c.f.