Navigation by Falling Stars

by Anna Leahy 

A pebble runs between constellations to avoid the tag. An astronomical cinder can hit with a thwack, a wish, a grammatical gleam in the eyes. Of course, some lives burn hotter or brighter than others, though distance can befuddle the observer. How far before one loses sight of fairness? Too far to fall, to falter, to fail. Not too far to reach, to fuse.

Wonder where they should be in the style guide? If value is measured as distance from zero, then justice can work in two directions. It’s not anyone’s prerogative to lose sense of scale.

                                  [ action : feeling ≠ policy : empathy ]

No need to duck; no need to blink. When someone follows life’s inclination eye to eye, the self locates in relation to singular coordinates, adapts to the dark, advances on a balk, one of many defensive errors. But they are thrown over; they overthrow. They can slide safely on vapor. They call it like it is. So their story goes, multiplying in the current of migration. Keep moving like a meteor.

                                 [ policy : plan :: equity : action ]

Let the world change faster than a glossary can manage. It won’t be the first time; let it not be the last. Change orientation, re-sketch longitude and latitude. Let language take a leap; let us take it all in. Light leaves a trail in the sky until we exist in the yet to be.

Share via
Copy link
Powered by Social Snap