Early this morning I stepped outside and stood amid
a cricket symphony looking up at the stars.
I saw the stars a whole—suspended above me and weightless as memories. I have been under them for fifty-seven years
now and for the entire time they have remained quiet as countless clouds smudged
through them.
As I stood under the stars with the crickets skritching in my ears, I thought about
how the night before last my friend came home only to find his wife
wrong-colored and dead in their bathtub.
The end.
I have never assigned a color to hurt…but if I had,
the sky would have been the color of hurt this morning. Standing at the center of my deck, I spun
around twice while gazing up at the stars.
Today, the stars are a whole because I need them to
be so.
--Mitchell
Hegman
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