The Stars on the Other Side of the World

There is a sky
so far from here
where stars like sequins
light up the night and glow—
spangled, blinking
constellated
above the seas
that flow.

I want to be there
to stand on a rocky
promontory
fearing not,
the abyss below.

Eyes up!
Mesmerized
I want to feel
the emerald grass that
lies beneath my feet— and know
the shamrocks
will prevent me
from demise
and Sirius will
guide me
as I go.

Kat Mortensen©2010

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Night Voyagers

A night sky can make you feel so small;
it swallows you whole.
Don’t look up!
If you’re out wandering when the sun’s gone down—
you’re going to drown.
When clouds cleave to the atmosphere—
the moon is nearly full, you will feel,
a speck upon the ground.
Stand up straight,
you’ll still be found inside the tide—
the wide dark sea that washes overhead.
Only the owls know their place in the night sky,
that is why we call them wise.

Kat Mortensen©2010

NaPoWriMo – Day 2

What You Are

As a child
the stars held little interest for me,
except to sing of their twinkling.
I didn’t care that they
lit up the sky at night;
(I was born under the sign
of a bright moon.)

As I grew,
I knew that Polaris
was the great North Star
(maybe that’s why I wore
those runners).

Like all around me
I was aware of the Bear—
the Majors and the Minors,
the two big pots
dipping into nocturnal ink.

Then, in my youth,
the myth collapsed—
I learned it was all just gas.

Now I’m older.
We live where the sky amasses itself
like a cloak, when the sun
drops out of sight.
We look up
and embrace the gift
of each gold star’s tiny light.

skat©2015

My Sky

My Morning Sky

My morning sky is a world of things,
of planetary rings,
and planes (not those that fly);
it’s strips and strings and mountains, high—
a gaping eye,
And down below,
the yellow finches glow against the glen
that is, my little piece of pie;
you’d never know, a storm is due to blow,
but for the storm-crow’s cry.

Kat Mortensen©2011

STOLEN (Impressions of “The Book of Negroes”)

STOLEN   


They caught us
from behind and stopped
our mouths,
against our will.

We had no chance—
no hope in Hell,
against
the coils and clubs in
strong arms and cruel hands—
the fire-brands.

We were yoked;
they bled and broke
us, and we choked for days,
and nights filled with stars
against
an indigo sky.

We tried hard
not to die.

Kat Mortensen©2011 Protected by Copyscape DMCA Takedown Notice Checker

My Morning Sky

My morning sky
is a world of things,
of planetary rings,
and planes (not those that fly);
it’s strips and strings
and mountains, high—
a gaping eye.
 
And down below,
the yellow finches glow
against the glen that is
my little piece of pie;
you’d never know
a storm is due to blow,
but for the storm-crow’s cry.

Kat Mortensen©2011