she crunched through the ice and dirty
snow, knowing that someone had
shoveled a path just three yards to her
left but feeling it necessary to make her own.
she always was that way.
she looked up to the sky, and shivered.
since when had the stars seemed so…
obliterating?
she slowed her pace and closed her eyes
and thought back to a time when the stars held
something different. a feeling of hope,
and opportunity, and the potential for wishes come true.
things were different then. that was before
she realized that she kept making the same wishes.
and nothing changes.
it was too cold for early november.
and she was too young to be so disillusioned.
but as time passed and the seasons kept changing
without waiting for her to catch up,
the sky clouded over.
and she learned that just like people,
and promises, and everything,
stars die.
she was too young to be so disillusioned.
we grow up too fast these days.
Sarai, this is a beautiful poem. Well writtten. By the way, your name sounds familiar, are you from Eritrea or Ethiopia? Peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think you skillfully characterize 'her', whether she is yourself of someone else. The picture of disillusionment is well-sketched. (And I pray 'she' will some day find the 'new innocence' that one poet, William Blake, said is on the other side of disillusionment.)