letter to an unnamed star

How could you prepare yourself
for the pressure of the wishes?
How to prepare for the burden 
when any given person on earth 
might choose, at last, out of desperation 
most likely, to look up and notice you shining
in the great vast dark and pin on you 
their greatest hope grown like a weed
from the seeds of their greatest fear?
You, formed from a cloud unimaginably cold, 
were never prepared to receive such longing, 
such ache, such stubborn, relentless faith. 
The fact we can see you at all means
you survived a battle in which gravity 
wins. What do you have to teach us 
of wishes? Perhaps the wisdom of falling 
in on ourselves, faster and faster;
how we must give away enormous energy 
in order to stabilize our core. You model 
how we must give ourselves to a process 
of becoming. Are you fighting for it?
 I imagine you might ask, as you, too, 
battle against pressure and what’s happening 
in the field beyond your control. 
Have you learned yet to power yourself?
you might ask as you spontaneously fuse 
hydrogen atoms to form helium. And somewhere
in the midst of the forty million years 
of becoming a star, you might ask of us wishers, 
Have you learned yet anything of patience,
how much brightness it can bring?  

~Rosemary Trommer

can it be alive like this?

inquiry for today~ where to go next?

quiet rememberings….

I got half-a-dozen paintings from that shattered plate.

~Georgia O’Keefe