ricochet

that old skylight opened 
again

struck by lightning 

s/he 

traveled

spontaneously

holding something lost

briefly cupping

a birth of star

light years behind

already dead

as it glowed

their rituals in repose
bathed in fear
yet
clothed in hope

the world has its ways
to spin us 
in love
or pain

and we think 
all over each other
like paint sealed
windows

how sweet the air
must be

on the other side