Star Bright

I sat on the porch, in the dark, silent, still country night and looked at the stars. You never see them shine this brightly in the city, and I thought, have I really lost this much touch with myself? I who am perpetually a girl of nature, wanting always that connection with the soil, with the air, with the unending expanse of the universe. I spend my days in artificial lighting and noise pollution, concrete under my nails. But for these few minutes, as my cold breath dimmed the view with its clouds, I was a part of this planet, again.

I lay there staring at the stars; they twinkled, as they will. I think I was hoping for a shooting star, and I wasn't sure why. There is no wish granted as they plummet, and still I thought if I could just see one fall, I would know the universe was taking care of me, that I was being looked after. But the streaks of light always seemed to happen just outside my line of vision. I gave up, shivered, walked inside.

You can't go home again. I do not belong here in their white family worlds, their church on Sunday and Pink buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken for a social movement. Their streets built more for cars than for people, orchards disappearing quickly in favor of the latest box store. Their bubble of awareness barely larger than that of their congregation. I do not belong here, and yet, for split seconds, I wish that I might.

Life seems easier, when spent in blissful ignorance.

I wish I may, I wish I might
know the wish I wish tonight.