On Gunpowder and Stardust

by krstaten

I was not born a loaded gun,
all metal in the teeth,
a mouthful of lead.
I was forged into weaponry;
first word “gunpowder.”
I was not born the cannon
but I was born on the ship,
daughter of a turbulent sea,
and I guess that makes me
twice as guilty.

My daughter’s first word
will be “reincarnation.”
Made from molten metal
and stardust, she will know
the universe from the beginning.
She will not be born celestial,
maybe, but she will know
that she has traveled here
before, a gift greater
than this spitfire tongue.

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