The first time the stars fell, I was horrified
As if the Earth itself had shifted on its tilted axis
Off kilter and haphazard with no end in sight
Where life before trauma would never return
And it did not.
The second, third, tenth, twentieth time the stars fell,
Fear retreated into numbness and normalcy
Used to the constant tug of gravity on shoulders
Where life before trauma felt like it never existed
Even though it had.
Now that I am safe and healing, falling stars still occur
Like reminders in my periphery of what happened
Replaying the same trauma tapes long boxed away
But they no longer have the power to abase
They are far away now
Only small specks on a canvas of stars.