We’ve been experiencing sunny, though still chill, days here in Central Ohio. And nights clear, away from city lights, to look up at the stars. These dark night skies remind me of the delights and mysteries of my childhood stargazing. Could be this poem will remind us both of how we felt those starry evenings.
Long Ago … Stars
My father calling in the warm evening
stars in the dark, dipper over the house
out in the field before mother could stop us
daddy tracing the sky with his finger
see the big dipper, he would whisper,
see Cassiopeia, see the woman in the chair.
In those times I felt that stars
could see us, that stars knew
we were watching from below.
I thought God made stars as our companions
that if we listened, we could hear their voices
I knew that stars shone especially for us
I knew that their light was healing.
There was no one there to tell me
that love was not like that at all
that stars were sullen, cold, and dying
too far away to see or have a voice
that all their light was old and accidental
that they wandered in the heavens colossal, blind.
I only know the words my father whispered
on starry nights so long ago and warm
listen, my father said, the stars are speaking
I stood silent and I heard them
cry out to me, and call my name.