THE DREAMALIST

My Mom had a unique way of looking at the world, for it would always seem

She had a way of mixing reality with a her imagination and some dreams.

Consequently the truths she told us were sprinkled with all kinds of twists

We called her world a dreamality and she was the dreamalist.

Sitting out in our yard in the evening it wouldn’t be too bizarre

For Mom to point up to the sky and say, “I think we all have a star.”

“You mean a lucky star?” we’d ask “Oh heaven’s no!” she would reply

“More like our own light that in the darkness helps to brighten up in the sky.”

“Look closely at the stars.” She’d say, (for this story bears repeating)

“Notice how, some are brighter than others and some of them are beating.”

When she asked us why, I was able to explain the science of light diffusion,

How the brightness and the beating are just an optical illusion.

She smiled at the logic and the science my answer contained

Then said, “What if there are answers, Jim, that science can’t explain?”

“What if a star is created in the heavens for every daughter and every son

To announce to all the people of the world that a new life has begun.”

“What if the beating of our star matches the beating of our heart?

What if bright stars are the newest and faint ones are preparing to depart?”

“What if the star remains aglow until the day we die...Oh wouldn’t it be nice...

To think our star swoops down and carries our soul right up to paradise?”

When I mentioned they all look the same and asked her which was my star

She said, “That’s to remind the peoples of the world how much alike we are.”

“We never know until we die which star is ours and ours alone

But that didn’t stop us that very night from adopting a star of our own.

“Close your eyes,” Mom said, “then open up and choose the first one that you see.”

To this day when I go out at night I know which star belongs to me.”

Mom’s star burned out years ago and, yes, I consider it quite nice

To think it swooped down and carried her soul right up to paradise.

Many nights I still greet my star...it’s something I can’t resist.

I regard it as a gift...given to me a long time ago, by my Mom, the dreamalist.