Blessed are the stars
Not the ones we can see from Earth
Or even the ones in Olam Haba
But the ones who shimmer in the unseen places
Who reside in student ghettos
Hospital waiting rooms and bus stations
Who linger behind front desks and in back rooms
And speak words like “sweetheart”
And “I can help you fill that out, dear”
The ones who make our coffees
Who remember our names, even when we met once
Who look at beyond family or familiarity
And with the expanse of the galaxy
Dare to embrace us too.
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