If I could capture the light of the stars in the palm of my hand
I would crush it to dust
for the simple fact that they are already gone
and anything that professes false hope when
it itself has failed isn’t worth wishing to.
I have stopped saying my prayers at night.
Before I knew it the once familiar words were heavy in my throat
and eventually absent from my mind
and I began spending my days
counting the ways that I was useless.
It is so hard knowing you will let yourself down before you even lift a finger
and that you don’t even have the drive to stop it.
We are trapped between giving up and leaping into action;
so overwhelmed by the gravity of things that we couldn’t possibly know where to begin—
and I am a star gazer again.
Looking at false hope.
Counting the endless ways it attempts to puncture the darkness entirely but fails.
It’s hard to see the stars when you’re surrounded by city lights anyhow.