The Night the Stars Came Down
They say shoot for the stars so one night I strung a bow and I shot them down and I watched faithless and weightless they fell to the ground I gathered their remnants still burning but tired and I added their dying light to my funeral pyre
Sifting through the ashes I found fine china tattered lace and bits of bone lives intertwined fragments of another place
I write letters to myself I think its like time travel reading the words that I wrote before it all unraveled Inside of this space apathetic, tired time no longer linear like me in a spiral
I've been sitting inside of a bottle so long I can no longer find the exit living in the un-space and existing on fragments inside this space it echoes and I scream every word that I’ve left unspoken all too aware of the fact that my crutch keeps my legs broken
I wear my guilt on my face like a beard of bees they still try to kiss between the stingers I leave them where they stand liars and thieves licking honey from their fingers as I watch the sky fall into my pyre and the last ember flickers I try so hard to see the past elbows deep in ash smoke in my eyes burning my fingers
Maybe the devil you know at the end of the day and the sky is so dark now as long as I stay awake I can keep the demons away If I never stop moving they can’t keep up quick as I am on two broken legs and one crutch.
While you were out mending fences I've been here burning bridges living in the un-space existing in the fringes together we burn now the dying stars and I and I watch the last light fade promise me you’ll scatter our ashes back in the sky and you’ll fix this mess that I’ve made
Clara Paradis is a writer and artist from BC Canada. Reformed drinker, now instead she hangs out at home and makes art. She is currently hard at work on a kid's book that she plans to release in the coming months. Clara's lifelong struggles with anxiety and depression have always found healing in the creative process.
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