Lost Among the Stars Lost among the stars; unable to differentiate between home and a foreign land. All looks the same through the blinding tears, or is it rain? She can’t remember where the water is coming from. Does it rain amid the stars? Or do the stars weep with her? It makes little difference to her now. Yesterday she would have been grateful for the companionship and sympathy of the stars, but today those feelings are the foreign land to her. Today she no longer remembers how or why she walks among the stars to begin with. If she doesn’t remember soon she will fall from them. They would try to catch her but there will be no stopping her fall if she doesn’t remember. She continues to walk among them weeping. If only she could remember the cause of the tears. It seems as though she is not just lost but lost something dear to her. Perhaps she left it behind Cassiopeia. Yet she can’t remember where to find her in the vastness of the Universe. Memory is a strange commodity, as shimmering and uncatchable as stardust. Changeable, it can’t be pinned down. Distance and age, loneliness and rage, distort it. So why should she try to remember something that is so easily molded anyway? To fall would not be so bad really. Surely, it would be better than this aimless wandering between the glittering beings that light pathways she can no longer remember walking. Falling. It begins to sound easy and safe. There is a murmur that ripples through the stars at her thought. Her realization that not only did they hear her thought, but that she knew what their murmur meant sparks something in her. She pauses momentarily, lifting her eyes to the nearest star, then continues on. The collective breath that they held at her pause is released and a comet streaks by. She feels a touch of warmth as it passes. Warmth; she realizes that she is cold and begins to shiver and so moves closer to the nearest star. It is a large and ancient star nearing the end of its light, but its warmth soothes her. She reaches out her hands toward it to warm them. The star extends a tiny ray of light almost too small to be perceptible towards her hands in return. Playfully the light weaves between her fingers and she feels the blood flow in them again, feels the pulse of her heart and the pulse of the star. They beat in time with each other.
The warmth moves up her arms and floods her body, enveloping her. She pulls back slightly as the heat touches her but cannot resist it for long before she surrenders to it. The tiny ray of light takes her hand and raises it up spinning her like a little girl at play. Laughter cannot resist the power of the star either andescapes from her, adding song to the dance. The sound rings among the stars and is answered by the indescribable sound of stars laughing. The joy of the stars rings in her ears and reaches from there to her heart where her true memory lays, the memory that waits undisturbed for her to feel it again. Through her dizzying twirling she begins to feel it. The beat of the song changes. A strong and steady beat as of a drum, can be heard within her. It pounds out a rhythm in her chest that would burst her in two, yet she has no fear. The beat is familiar, but still it seems to her as if it is coming from very far away. If only she could get nearer to it. Then the star dips her. Gleefully she moves with the star and throws her head back taking in the stars upside down, back arched, hair falling, eyes dancing to a rhythm of their own. Within that moment of freedom it breaks free. The memory is released through the drum and the beat and the light and the heat. Her head spins now as the star returns her to her feet. She stands absolutely still and though the beat goes on the stars again hold their breath. Her expression is unreadable and for a moment the Universe stops expanding. From her dance partner there is the slightest of movements, imperceptible to the unknowing eye, but she is unknowing no longer. She remembers what it looks like when a star smiles. She shines back at the star, blindingly bright in her joy. The rapture of the stars is seen in even an unknowing eye this night. The expansion of her heart reaches out beyond the edges of the Universe, leaving a trail of stars as it moves on a wave of pure joy. Free and dancing she turns to her star partner and her lips move with words none but the star will ever know. They bow to each other and the dance goes on as she is at home again among the stars.
Lynda Allen is in her joy when she is writing, sharing her stories and poems, being with the birds and her loved ones, and following her creative inspiration. Lynda is the author of two collections of poetry, Rest in the Knowing and Illumine, a novel, Sight to See and her forthcoming nonfiction book, The Rules of Creation. Through her work she strives to inspirepeople to open their hearts and embrace their journey, both the dark and the light, with joy.
Spring 2014 Volume 2, Issue 1
A compilation of the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Volumes 1 and 2 (2013-2014)