A Hanging Star
Poetry
It was just a hanging star
Falling away and so far
Trying to see and discover
What’s hidden there on the ground
It flew among the fears
And saw the dropping tears
With no sign of any cheers
Wherever it wandered
There was a little girl
Sitting on a freezing pebble
During December and not in April
When every consciousness is cold
It got closer and heard
A chant that was blurred
Without a letter or a word
Coming from that alone child
It was a chant of whisper
To a very little sufferer
A bird with no glitter
Lying among her little hand
Trying to cure a wound
Or rescuing it from the cold
Calming it with a tiring sound
And she’s only a little kid
How can a little finger
Got by a small thinker
That tries to cure
It suffers in this cruel world
Is this why it’s on Earth
A kid in the cold with no hearth
Missing comfort and mirth
On this severe land
The little girl saw a shooting star
Getting higher and very far
As the little bird started to tower
And it then began to chirp thanking the little child
This narrative is very old
And since it’s very cruel this world
So it can still be told
By just a hanging star
