When I was 5,
I had my first concert.
It was Christmas Eve
Snowflakes falling softly outside onto
The frozen ground,
A white thread-bare blanket.
The stars were bright, reflected
In a mirror as my mother showed me my own reflection.
I stared at them, not
Myself.
The Children’s Choir sauntered onto the stage
And I followed, last in line.
The room quickly silenced, only the piano played
An introduction to our song.
Wearing my maroon dress
With golden stars on the sleeves,
I stepped forward.
Wooden heels that
Clacked against the polished floor.
I wiped my pudgy fingers on the velvet sleeves.
Then the piano softened, the entire choir was
Hushed,
Because it was time for me to sing.
Only me.
My solo,
My song.
I stood in place frozen, watching the bright stage lights.
Dazzling like stars in an ink black void
My gaze fixed on my star like the 3 wise men long
Ago, I sang
Later, at home, I gently closed the car door
And scrutinized the night sky.
One star caught my eye, a lone star overcoming the darkness that surrounds.
Audacious enough to shine on its own.