The Stars and the Blackness Between Them

by Junauda Petrus

And lastly, to Mom for pinning the balloons on my tight winter coat when I was seven, when I needed to fly to space. I will always love you for your sweetness and your limitless belief in my magic.

She never seem quite at peace with life.

But that is what it feel like to be in love for the first time I guess. You wan’ feel like you did discover a ting, no one else know,”

“I love you, Audre. I love you, Audre. I love you. I won’t let nothing happen to you. This is your body. It belongs to you. These are your hands. They belong to you. These are your feet. They belong to you. I love you, Audre.” I say things to myself, like I is a sweet grandma. Like I is my own ancestor. And I say it to me from me. “I love you, Audre. You are safe.”

“The Blackness between the stars is the melanin in your skin,”

Remember that you are from the stars and that you can return to them.

‘If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched up into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.’”