Waiting For ISON

 

 

 

There you are – a faint, fuzzy star

Camouflaged by the crushed diamond dust

Sprinkled between Castor and Pollux.

Not much to look at now, it’s true,

But before year’s end, you promise us,

You will blossom and bloom, unfurling

Your Camelot banner tail across our frosty

Northern skies as you whip around the Sun…

 

 

 

Please don’t let us down.

We’ve waited for you for so long;

Dreamed so many dreams of you;

Wished on so many shooting stars for you;

Imagined you lighting up our sky since childhood;

Sighed for oh so many years at the sight

Of paintings showing those that came before you

Burning bright on nineteenth century nights,

Their searchlight tails sprayed across the heavens,

Princes and peasants alike staring up at you

With wide-with-wonder eyes,

Unable to believe what they were seeing,

Some no doubt screaming “Begone! Flee!

Leave us be!”

 

 

 

Others like you have promised us the world,

Reached out from across the Great Black

To fill our hungry hearts with hope,

Only to leave us standing in the dark alone,

Glaring at another empty sky,

Shaking our fists at the universe for lying

To us again, playing us for fools again,

Shattering our dreams and making us feel

Stupid again…

 

 

 

Oh please, don’t be lying to us,

Don’t leave us standing at astronomy’s altar in tears.

We want to gather on our school playing fields,

Hilltops and harbour-sides, watching you rise

In glory from behind bare-limbed trees.

We want to park our cars in crowded lay-bys and stand

With strangers, marvelling at the sight of you

Stretched across the purple-hued twilight

Like God’s own Maglite beam.

We want to hear people standing in line

At bus-stops and post offices describing

How they saw it walking home, or walking the dog,

Or weaving their way back from the pub,

“And it was beautiful…”

We want to walk along the shore, hand in hand,

To stand at the waves’ foaming edge and whisper

“Look at that…!” as your tail paints

A mother of pearl rainbow across the sky.

We want to walk out into our gardens at dawn,

In our Christmas slippers and cat hair matted dressing gowns

And see you shining above our sheds,

Long tail stretched above our heads, feeling small,

Banishing The Ghost of Kohoutek Past

Once and for all…

 

 

 

So please, don’t let us down, oh please

Don’t let us down. Not again.

Don’t make future generations snarl

As they say your name; don’t make us hate you

When you’ve gone, cursing bitter memories of you.

Put on a celestial circus show for us!

Thrill us as you fly around our star,

Make us want to weep at your beauty as you leap

Over Sol’s flickering flames to hang above

Our cities and towns, briefly looking down

On our warring, weary world like an angel

Before flying away again, leaving us behind,

Leaving us with a thousand Facebook photographs

And a trillion breathless Tweets to remember you by…

 

 

 

© Stuart Atkinson 2013

 

 

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