Shooting Star Sestina

When I was young, I caught a falling star.
She said I was her hero and I named
her Luna. She cried when the night turned black
and I whispered in the cool September air that I would spend forever to protect
her. That was the night I fell into oblivion
and let something go.

I watched her go
nowhere the night she told me I too could be a star.
She refused to see my planets and obliged herself to oblivion.
She named
herself Flame and murmured she needed to leave to protect
me. Then danced when I strayed in a veil of black.

She waltzed where the black
people danced and said she had nowhere to go.
They laughed and smiled and held her in their hands (the way I did) to protect
her. They called her their sunset star.
There, she was given the name
Hope. And once again, fell to oblivion.

Her shine is oblivious
to the darkness of the Black
Sea where she named herself Whisper. She told herself she would go
before the sun realizes it’s a star
because if there’s one thing she can do, it’s protect.

But it was always me she protected,
until I refused to see my demons and wove myself oblivious
into the web of life where I called myself a star.
There, the lights blinked green and told me life comes and goes
and I lost myself to the point where I forgot my own name.

I asked the Sun to find my name
but he blinked and said he could only protect
me until the manic moon goes
Up    up    up    into the sky. I left him to oblivion
and turned to show myself where black
fear turns to stars.

One black night I found a star
I named her Luna but I let her go
because I can’t protect us from oblivion.






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