Firmament
_
 
The story goes that
the stars align when
babies are born and
magic is made –
 
when the million dollar
jackpot is won and
dreams come to fruition
just as expected –
 
not when we trip
on a wayward crack
forget where we
put our keys,
succeed after a dozen
previous failures
express remorse
after we’ve blundered –
 
not when
the world is on fire
someone’s child
dies suddenly
in the night,
the hubris of man
takes center stage
yet again –
 
those things labeled portentous,
indicative of something
not good, imperfect or
unworthy, stars out of whack,
shining on some one or
some situation
more deserving.
 
The stars are laughing here
 
telling us that they are
always aligned,
millions upon billions of
tic-tac-toes occurring
in every moment,
no sleight of hand required
to reach up and grab onto
a perfect string of stars
whether we stand on
hilltop or rubble
 
perspective lost when
we place a single eyeball
to a tiny telescope lens
in search of God’s sign,
a stretch of silver dust
honed down to a single point
that lands benevolently
right between our eyes
 
(pity the poor chap
just two degrees
to the west,
not in the sightline of
said starry convergence)
 
It is us that
fall out of alignment,
turn our backs on
the natural order of things
present in star and sky
whether we
take a route
direct or circuitous,
outcome not
dependent on
a rare celestial event or
selective magnetic refraction,
fairy tale constructs or
absence of obstacle –
 
but on our
willingness to
look to the stars
in moments both
cloudy and clear,
trust that they are
always and ever there,
lined up and
taking aim
in our direction.