Falling Star

I struggle with what I’d tell him —

the boy who mailed himself to God —

Would I look into his sandbagged eyes

and see anything but a tightrope?

Because yes I know we’re walking a fine line.

And yes I see them too: the folks landing backflips

like nobody’s business and smiling all the time.

But look through your telescope, kid. See the stars?

They’re corpse candles. I swear, you can look a guy

straight in the eye, go jogging with him, play his XBOX,

even call him ‘friend,’ but you can never know if he’s alive.

Turns out most folks have been dead for years, but we see

them burning still; we watch them flicker, because that bastard

‘Light’ takes eons to reach us, even from across a room.

Step by step, I wanna reach you. Hands splayed out, creeping

toe to heel like a blind eagle with crippled wings.

I wish you'd known this, kid: It's true you can end the fight.

But if you do, then no, you won’t be able to say that you won.