since we are made of star stuff
each of us chooses which stars
to let shine in the black of our night
and we place them,
as fragments of glass in a frame,
to color the horizon of another soul.
that soul does the same, grabbing choice pieces
to exchange around solar dust, sparkling,
and our own deep light.
they burn in a magnificent pattern.
but, since we are made of star stuff,
some will slip through cracks of sky and snap,
popping in space like the smack of truth
on the back of a baby
who cries because she is too tired to sleep.
Linda Battson is a writer and artist living in Austin, Texas. She spends her days selling pens and her nights engaged with those she loves. Linda enjoys authentic conversation, participating in the mental health discussion, and using writing as a tool to navigate the chaos of life. She is currently publishing her second book of poetry.