Birth of a Star

I am not a star;
my teeth are crooked, my hair is grey,
I have a weak chin.
I am neither polished nor fine.

Yet I have been known
to dance in the rain,
in the early morning before sunrise.

Sheltered by darkness, under the cedars
I have spread wide my arms,
spun gently round, swaying to music
made by the wind.
I have danced with bare feet on wet grass,
mud oozing between my toes,
arched my spine, thrown back my head
savoured cool rain drops on my tongue.

I have heard the song of my soul
carried on the laughter
that has risen from my belly.

I have danced for Spirit in the rain,
jumped and leapt a vigorous jig,
waltzed with the cedars and my own heart,
bowed to the rising sun
and the applause of chickadees.

I have come to know beauty;
as the rain has soaked into my hair.
Despite rivulets trailing down my back,
I have glowed like enduring embers.

I have shone so bright that I have
touched the edge of darkness,
and bravely entered there,
igniting places never seen
warming spaces never loved.

I am a star
My teeth are crooked, my hair is grey,
I have a weak chin.
I am polished and fine.