The Stars Are Confused

Katie Spurlock


When there are two versions of my mirror’s reflection,
which one is faithful?
Is one a lie, a caricatured story in the starry haze of my mind?
Is the other the true essence that sees through the meteor shower protecting my heart?
Or perhaps, the most perfect of unholiest unions of the two disparate elements becoming whole.
What feels true in my bones is everything is better when there is only one of me.
Parts combined, cast away, honored, or forgotten.
One complete form, in harmony with all the stardust that ever twinkled into existence.
But I’m interrupted, a sunburst shattering my resolve. The clouds slip by, muddying the mirror.
That part’s fierce,
this part wilts.
That one is cured,
this one’s diseased.
That half’s accommodated,
this half is able.
Feeling untethered, floating away, space rushing in – that’s more scary than any piece of me.
I want to be here, where we are now, where we will be, stable and grounded to the earth’s song.
United, strong, vulnerable, one – as we are with the stars, in the sky and in our mind.




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