"In Houston, the empty sky looks more threat than promise.
The city left the light on for you but
the..."
In Houston, the empty sky looks more threat than promise.
The city left the light on for you but
the stars have never come knocking.
And the moon is a bashful stranger
who keeps his distance.
In Houston, the sky looked as lonely as I felt:
all questions, all heartache,
all the hungry parts we didn’t want to look at.
On the long road to New Mexico
we stared down a storm at high noon:
drove into it, like crawling into the mouth of heaven–
caught between a hurricane and a sunset
until the desert dropped away and we were left
with a kingdom of clouds in half-light.
Until there was nothing but lightning in the rear view mirror.
Until the stars.
Until the stars.
And my inner city soul
had never known starlight
and suddenly the world was broader
than it had ever been–
broader than 21 years of heartache.
Suddenly there was no such thing as lonely, anymore.
And all the parts of my childhood
that didn’t do right by me
crawled up into my throat and
dug their elbows into each other’s ribs and
fought to see the starlight.
And they fell in love with something past
the last breath of atmosphere,
something that goes on
for the closest thing to forever
we know how to measure.
For once,
it was good
to feel small.
- FOR THE CITY KIDS by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
