November 29, 2015

The 5 a.m. Question. {Poem}

Photo: WikiCommons

I awake—in the coldness of night

coyotes howling,
somewhere in that space before dawn,
I stare
at the shimmering stars
one in each frame of the window—

I ask myself for a thousand answers
only one question,

as I
break myself free
from the chains of question marks
wrapped around my wrists,
knowing it
isn’t as simple as trusting
the sun to rise every new day


that the constellations
will remain steady
in their dotted demarcations like Orion’s arrow,
and yet—
it’s in the shooting stars
that I’ve confided my wishes,
the constant burning
of Polaris

whose light sparkles through
the cold glass,

separating wishes
from my racing mind,
which imagines
a thousand answers written on a paper,
that’s folded into a spaceship
and tossed
like a shooting star
towards the heavens,

so all the answers
burn before landing among the stars,
and the one question

no longer lingers
in the coolness of dawn’s blue lavender sky.



The Space between Us. {Poem}


Author: Jessie Wright

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: WikiMedia Commons

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