I tried counting the stars, several nights I stayed up
One, two, three, four
I lost count, didn’t know which I had counted or not
May be they disappear, may be they split, may be they run
Its as futile as having fire flies light a cord
But there are countable stars;
Like the one strapped on the green bottle Papa returns home with, in a stagger
He repeatedly sips from it and belches a stench of the lager brand – star
Like the star he promises Mama shortly before he slaps her
Her vision goes black-out like a night without a star
There was a star on the black uniform of Mama’s brother
His men whisked Papa away in police van, they didn’t wear any star
I bet Papa saw many stars in their hands
Still Papa didn’t learn to tame his assaulting hands
Like the star that led the wise men to baby Jesus
Our Sunday school mistress illustrated it with an open scissors
She is the woman that stole Mama’s star
She snatched it from the hollow of Papa’s heart
There are countable stars in Mama’s eyes
Tiny sparkles on the tears that wets her eyes
There was a star that moon-less night Mama escaped with us
Through-out the sky it was the only source
It led us out of Papa’s wrath
I like the play on “Stars”, I like the flow of the poem story how it moves from verse to verse, most importantly i like the closing verse. This is reaaaaaaaally Good. Nice one
Sad…but a story well-said!