Guérin Asante
Jul 20 · 1 min read
The poet, seven years old © Guérin Asante 2019

This boy, who once knew
how close to stars he grew,
who, in latter days,
was made to peddle scars
like Sunday vapor —
today he runs and runs,
unbound from how the evening sky
appeared near somewhere
dressed like home,
with nineteen winters come and gone
without her youngest child,
who, after shaking loose
the spears she levied,
meant for him to drown,
is nothing short of buoyant,
finding joy within this moment
with a single, distant pearl
and all the constellations
he could ever climb

© Guérin Asante 2019.
All rights reserved.

A Catalog Of Quiet, Burning Things

A collection of poetry and essays by Guérin Asante

Guérin Asante

Written by

writer | poet | painter | photographer | sentient rainbow | 🏳️‍🌈 | ATL & all points skyward

A Catalog Of Quiet, Burning Things

A collection of poetry and essays by Guérin Asante

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