Christopher Cadra ~ A Dancing Star

The Star

‘Now I lay me down to sleep,’
She whispered, prayed.
‘I pray the Lord my soul to keep,’
She was getting ready for bed.
‘His Love to guard me through the night,’
She never went to bed without her prayers.
‘And wake me in the morning’s light…’

When Ellie woke, it was not morning.
She couldn’t tell the time, but she knew it was late.
Her room was as dark as the night outside.
The only light came from the moon and the stars,
The stars that danced upon her windowpanes,
Lovingly, lovingly upon her windowpanes.
She loved looking at the stars. She loved
Watching them dance: dance a fandango,
Dance a waltz. Dance however the spirit moved them.
They never stopped dancing when her eyes welled with tears.

It was the front door banging downstairs that woke her.
She knew that her father was home, that he’d be drunk.

To Ellie, drunk simply meant stinky, talking funny,
Being unable to walk right, and probably a visit.
Though her father’s footsteps were drawing near,
She didn’t want to think that she might be receiving a visit.

Her mom was a heavy sleeper. ‘But, but, but…
How does she not know? Does she know? How…’
Ellie shook her head, and away went her thoughts.

She wished she were a dancing star,
She wished it were morning, she wished
She were on her window, dancing.

 

Christopher Cadra is an editor at The Literati Quarterly (thelitq.com). His work will be featured in the upcoming summer issue of The Cimarron Review. Bienvenue au Danse, Christopher.
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