A Literary Journal interested in your broken, and your resurrected.

DEAD STARS by MANUEL CHAVARRIA

Among dead stars, Eurydice did claim to find the lady fair
Who’d held aloft our shatt’ring world in eras fraught, times of despair,
And though that lady waned beneath the lashes of the sudden glare
Of raging lights that lurched across the galaxy to find her, where

The wind slipped toward the edge of plain and stroked her as she, silent, stood. (The fires galloped o’er the sky and took her, as we knew they would.)
Yet she was not to lose the thread that bound her to her purpose; there
She held her ground and looked upon the lights with violence in her stare.

She gripped the world more tightly as she braced herself for that first lance,
Which illumined the heavens, and she buckled while the cosmos danced.
The stars rose up around her, and they reached for her and held her still,
And inserted those blades that long precipitated endless ills

That came upon all worlds once they’d matured beyond the breath of God,
Crept further from his whisper ’til the fundament was cracked and flawed,
And floated ever onward toward a light that dims as it grows near,
As angels dance in rearview, wonder changing to alarm and fear.

And all the little daffodils, and orchids that bloomed ‘neath the sky
Did wither and decay into the soil, released a heavy sigh,
And fell upon the earth, their shrinking roots lost to the fading gusts
That Eurydice watched dissipate alone among the cosmic dust.

Manuel Chavarria is a writer living in Los Angeles.

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