Star Journey
Naomi Madgett (1923-____)
Alone I tiptoe through the stars,
Precipitously steep,
Watchful lest I wake the gods
And angels from their sleep.
Alone I climb the secret hills
Unknown to mortal feet
And stand upon a peak where you
And I can never meet.
To you who do not dream, I am
A gently tilted head,
A voice that chatters, earth-aware
A gay mouth painted red.
Better that you possess a cold
Impenetrable stone
Than woo my body while my soul
Tips through the stars alone.
I saw this poem in one of Papa’s anthologies at our house in Olongapo more than a decade ago, and wrote it down somewhere on a notebook that I only found again tonight. I know one should read between the lines especially in this poem, but whatever it really means, I just find it interesting.
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