I was alone on my back
out in that biting wind
breathless
beneath a glittering sky.
I laid there for hours
watching Orion fall apart,
while the world was warm in bed
or bathed in television glow,
or toasting success among weasels
somewhere far away from me.
Shivering in the immensity of night
I felt compelled to ask the stars, the dark,
if we are always where we’re supposed to be –
but I didn’t.
I remembered someone told me once
it is dangerous to ask questions
like that,
that sometimes living is easier
without the answer.
