lenten journal: cosmology


    can it be on these nights
    when we are tucked in our home
    curled up on the couch with
    doughnuts of dogs at our feet,
    the kitchen still holding the aroma
    of the garlic I roasted this afternoon
    the way we are holding life close,
    with only a couple of lights burning

    even the clouds have closed us in
    still – beyond them the stars shine
    small lights, from my view,
    lights like ours, crossing the sky
    constellations of community
    each one a household shining
    in the darkness; such is the stuff
    of which universes are made

    when we go to bed each night
    we never turn off all the lights
    two lamps stay burning in the kitchen,
    both made from old fixtures;
    can it be some sailor on a sea
    we have yet to name finds his way
    because our light is shining,
    our kitchen light, our star?


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