When We Could Still See the Stars
When we could still see the stars
The focus & center of our gravity was higher
Than ourselves.
Ancient peoples looked up--
So much that they ordered constellations,
Gods, legends, lore, creation stories.
If the Star of Bethlehem shone tonight,
Could we even see it?
Man, in limitless hubris, wanted to outshine the stars
Mistaking his blindness for progress, he
Lit up night skies across the world & shut our eyes to wonder
And those who didn’t follow
Were the ones deemed “in the dark.”
But I feel
When man stopped looking up,
He could no longer see beyond himself.
So filled with self-importance,
We can no longer see the stars our ancestors did,
Robbed of our inheritance,
Have to travel to far-flung “dark sky parks”
To see creation’s own birthright.
But “dark skies” are really the bright skies
That have been stolen from us--and from the birds--
Who fly to their deaths into windows
Mistaking electric lights for moon & stars--
And from the circadian-disrupted animals
Trapped on this earth under man
Because we try to convince them
There’s no higher power
Than the destruction we enact on them.
The universe contains 1 septillion stars--
Yes, that’s a real number!--But how
Many of them can you see?
They downed out the stars
To make it seem
We are the center
Of the universe.
Women of a Certain Age
Women of a certain age share their knowledge,
like Maya and Toni
Women of a certain age carry themselves with grace
like Meryl and Diane
Women of a certain age have smiles
that the worthy easily coax out
Women of a certain age have done things with their bodies
That others haven't thought up yet
Women of a certain age have smiles
That are to be envied
Women of a certain age are storytellers
We try to silence
Because our culture wants to pretend
We don't get old
Women of a certain age are paintings
We try to curtain off
Women of a certain age
Embrace their style
Women of a certain age know
They can still be hurt, but only if they allow it
Like Hillary and Mia
Women of a certain age are confident in their place
Which is the seat of respect, of their own fashioning
Women of a certain age are generous mentors
Like Anne and Kate
Women of a certain age
Have some to do with age, some to do with experience,
And a lot to do with knowing
Women of a certain age know
that years and wrinkles and laugh lines are blessings
Women of a certain age
remember their fallen sisters
And carry on
For them, and for those
Still living
Well into a certain age.
Margaret King is a Wisconsin writer who enjoys penning poetry, short stories, and young adult novels. In her spare time, she likes to haunt the shores of Lake Michigan, similar to many of her fictional characters. She has forthcoming work out in Unlost Journal and Moonchild Magazine, and recently was featured on Déraciné Magazine's website.