Falling Stars Rising: Nothing Descends in Space

For Lisa and her daughter, Mia

There is essence of port
tawny grapes, flooded hills
olives and oil
she comes to the world with
dark eyes and buoyant spirit

a mother alone, but held
by power of parenthood
child lingering in hyperspace
stars and expanding
worlds, string theories
nebula, yet she dances
with daughter

always a laugh, some matriarchal
foundation, like adobe, straw
she holds moons for 13 phases
culls the sullen nature
of men, laughs like a cheetah’s

she loves the mind, wrapping
inside new experiences
men and women like many
chambered nautiluses
holding tears, laughter, too

food and frolic
finding a way from
her own despoiled moment
she arises, rises
sun, mercury
Venus like quasar in her
eyes, woman to woman

that essence, musk like man’s
she holds light of the child
until womanhood blossoms
leaving trails of what it means
to be human, capacities to
venture into edge of time

there is that vessel she holds
cupping love, lasciviousness
like talisman of shaman
curandera of some sleeping time

what more is defined in deja vu
giggle, tear, laugh, a hold
presence now, forever memory
big bang and contraction
of time

Paul Haeder's been a teacher, social worker, newspaperman, environmental activist, and marginalized muckraker, union organizer. Paul's book, Reimagining Sanity: Voices Beyond the Echo Chamber (2016), looks at 10 years (now going on 17 years) of his writing at Dissident Voice. Read his musings at LA Progressive. Read (purchase) his short story collection, Wide Open Eyes: Surfacing from Vietnam now out, published by Cirque Journal. Here's his Amazon page with more published work Amazon. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.