We are Starmade

A poem about our deepest connections

An entire race of people, And the very ground we walk. Every inch of sunlight, Every word that we might talk.

There’s nothing here, nor that ever was, That is not made from star. Our hands, our hearts, our memories. It’s imbued in all we are.

But what if the things that we love most, Are something else, something more? Born not just from stars, but from ours, From that very same bright core?

The nuclear fusion of that one being, Churning out our greatest loves, Our favourite teaspoon. That city in France. Our six, soft hand-reared doves.

You know those things, the ones you can feel, You’re drawn to them without a word. Sunflowers and KitKats, Cillian Murphy’s whole jaw. That one brand of cheap lemon curd.

What if that explains our attachment? Their odd, inexplicable allure? Because we were born from the very same starstuff. Given life within that very same core.