The stars left trails of ancestors just beyond our reach and yet closer than we know — Tiokasin Ghosthorse and Jadina Lilien in Butterfly Against The Wind
Were the cities built to block us
from our astral history
etched in the blackness
of the night sky?
These looming skyscrapers
erase our connections, but I see
faint lines emanating from each body
when I squint.
The stars sing to us
of the ancient mysteries
that compose our very cells.
Once we gathered around bonfires
at night and felt their silvery touches
on our upraised faces.
Are they calling to us, lonely,
anxious to be seen
as we hurry through the fear
of each other and the untamed impulses
night holds? Or are we
the lonely ones,
stuttering and stumbling over curbs
and potholes, heads down,
blind to their inviting blaze?