I told my mother
I wanted to be a star
Something bright
Something everybody
Could see
Could gaze at
In the dark
A miracle

She said stars are beautiful
But not nearly as beautiful
As small pit fires
Built with sticks
And dried leaves
Nature’s messy crumbs
A flammable patchwork
Built by wrinkled hands
Bent backs
And God-breath
That make
Something bright
Something everybody
Can see
Can gaze at
In the dark

But most importantly
Something everybody
Can get close enough to
To feel