Star Stealin'
For Mom (Nov 2020)
For my mom — whose light I still feel. A piece I wrote a while ago, shared today in celebration of her birthday.
Fire of the moon,
Blessedly under zoom.
Borne of a gloomy tank, I swim —
Levelling up in a swollen cartoon room—
Animated—
Suspended.
Germinating —
Emblazed a brazen, shapeshifting mermaid.
A blade in her ribcage,
made to break the membrane.
Defenseless;
relentless.
Already making moves —
the kicks are pain and proof.
A wish sings joy,
naked, divine truth.
Thriving off what's consumed,
breath passing through the gills.
In these dark recesses, protected from my reflections —
she’s deflected the chills.
Do our part. Heal, out of a natural will.
Not a speck of dust, no need for a broom —
just the trust, the bloom,
the warmth: a watery tomb.
Odds like the lottery,
opened up to possibilities —
Possibly.
Absorbing the nutrients,
the wonder and the superstition.
Cells: divisions, decisions, religion.
No incision — but just "maybe a few stitches."
Fated to be insulated, yet I am one of the living.
You’re one that keeps on giving,
and I’m one that takes —
shakes, shapes and breaks,
heart-shaped earthquakes.
Your creation —
as if there is no ceiling.
No sky.
I’m not sly, cunning, or tried —
not yet robust with feeling.
A final thrust —
eruption — out-chucked —
to the bust,
and I trust I’ll be given a meal.
And the love.
But for now I’m just one in a million —
or maybe it’s a billion, or maybe — God willin' —
We’ll find a way,
a time of day,
galaxy gaze, and rejoice —
star stealin’.


Heart touching, Jordan.
Wow, this is stunning. Thank you for sharing.