I’ve always thought the stars were the only ones
that were allowed the paint the darkest of skies,
that is until we became so jealous, we created
a light source that with a single crack,
allowed us to carry light to the darkest of places
without having to always look up for directions.
With a thousand sticks, we could leave our mark
in the ink the universe uses.
We could build sculptures of light
in the middle of our towns, stack them high,
spread them out, show off their versatility,
illuminating festivals and large gatherings.
The stars have never known camaraderie before.

And when we wear fluorescent bands
on our wrists and around our necks,
we look up, and we see
the stars running across the sky.
We pause, remove our bands of light
and fling! Shoot out trails of luminescence
that will fly right by the heads
of unsuspecting passer-bys,
almost touching but not close enough,
just the right distance to feel
the small ‘wosh’ of magic
that flying stars leave behind.
We try to make the stars jealous,
showing off our colours;
there are too many of them
for the stars to replicate.
We hang our colours from the treetops,
lightly illuminating the space
where the mat is laid, food is ate,
laughter is exchanged and
all the warmth you need
is found within each other.
Let us make an aisle for
a bride with her white dress
and with her combat boots, stomp down,
tear them open, have the colours
splash all over her white gown
in some radiant, glowing master piece.
The stars have never seen love before.

We think we are better. Point up. laugh at them.
They look down on us. Shaking their heads, knowing
that we think we might have the upper hand, now
being able to hold the stars’ abilities in our hands
but the stars are wise,
and that’s why we look up to them.
They know our light will last a night,
and theirs will last a life time.

Creative Commons License
Cheyenne Alexandria Phillips by Glowsticks is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.


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