Annie

Annie mirrored the doppelganger in the glass,
wondered when it would be through with her face,
then stepped out into the morning air,
the mourning air,
turned and locked the door.

Annie was a broken girl
but she was an awoken girl
and in her swirled the glamour of the cosmos.

We were pilgrims then,
soldiers, settlers, traders too
forcing lies through copper wire
and forging worlds was easier with Annie at the helm.
We circled her like satellites,
it must have felt like wolves some nights;

we did not mean to tear the girl asunder.

Annie turned from her locked door,
perhaps she glimpsed her face once more
and fell to pieces,
ashes on the wind.

Annie’s name is in the stars
and Annie’s standard still flies true though
it is tattered now, the wind does not treat it kindly.
It is your job now to find her in the stars.
This is your standard now and
your watch has just begun.