binary star system (poem one of three)

the sun is a smiley face

i am a rainbow

you are a dressed

like a new moon night sky

i am a rainbow

you are the universe

like a new moon night sky

sitting on the floor

you are the universe

next to the record player

sitting on the floor

i lean back on you

next to the record player

the curtains block out

the actual sky

and what it is doing

i lean back on you

smile to gather the galaxy

dressed like the dark

night sky

This is part of what I am learning through loss. That when a loved one dies, what was an earthly relationship becomes a cosmic relationship. And more importantly, I can finally see that all relationships are already cosmic. My stardust daughterhood has always been here. Binary star systems orbit each other, offer light to each other and then something happens. Two distinguishable stars become a different cosmic event as the gas burns out, as the core elements fuse. Something bright happens. Is it death or birth. What my family calls the phenomenon “daddy’s girl” is a form of orbit. All of our relationships are. We get close enough to receive light, to offer light. We keep a pact with the universe to help each other return to the source that we came from. This is our love. What we learn to call loss even though we know the first law of thermodynamics. How it burns to become bright on behalf of those who have left us here to hold their light while we can. And to share it.

*Love and gratitude to Mama for this photograph, to Daddy for this moment and to Daniel Alexander Jones for sparking my interest in binary star systems and also modeling so gracefully the transfer and redistribution of light.

P.S. My every day writing practice shapes my days into vessels for generations of love. If you want support with your own daily creative practice, I’d love to be part of your journey. This is the Stardust and Salt Daily Creative Practice Intensive.