Posts Tagged ‘firework’

While Sitting in 28B

flying toward New York City,
I think of how every person
in this speeding vessel
has lost or will lose
someone they love.
And as we fly over Omaha,
Chicago, Michigan,
I feel how many we are—
a whole hurtling planet filled
with those who ache with loss.
I think of how much love
has been beaming
continuously toward
the prism of my heart,
as if the brightest red laser
has been shining into me,
lighting up every facet,
and my heart, radiant, luminous,
has begun to shudder and rattle
with the charge of so much love.
I always knew it wasn’t
mine to keep—
knew it was all love to share.
This is the poem in which
my heart is a firework
exploding with red seeds of light.
They’re for you, if you’ll have them,
to plant in the darkness
like the million lights that sparkle
outside the plane window.
If I could, I would place
this love in your hand.
I know it’s awkward,
you don’t even know me.
Still, I would whisper,
Here—it’s for you.  

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not once

has a firework apologized

for being so bright—

like that, I think,

live like that

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