Starry, Starry Light
“Every star may be a sun to someone.”
― Carl Sagan
Every time you would take
us to el mueso when mis
hermanos and I would run
off, muchas horas despues
we would find you with
headphone Walkman in
your ears escuchando
your favorite Don McLean
cancion, on repeat, standing
in front of the one piece
you would gaze, mirandolo
contemplating the palates
parado frente a la obra de
arte, in love con la noche
en el lienzo, the peaks
curling above el pueblo,
imaginando todos en la
cuidad dormiendo while
sus ojos focus amazed
at the glowing estrellas
amarillas beaming circulos
so many waves of azules
swimming en el cielo sky.
I wish haberte preguntado
what made this Van Gogh
piece su pintura favorita.
I imagine the colors like
Vincent’s brushstrokes
would instantly reflect
like olas in the sky and
ripple your secreto sadness
in waves. Instead of kneeling
in church, the museum became
one of your most devoted
sacred espacios, sus ojos
no longer watching Dios,
the only hymn you live
to oir, concentrating on
this starry night, with your
eyes gleaming, los colores
would sing to you— no
longer trieste listening
always picturing paradise,
focusing on your favorite masterpiece
seeing you, Don McLean
in your ears siempre serenading…
Mami’s eyes always resounding
with the brightest of blues
glimmering vida colors of delight.
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