Posted on February 1, 2026 by Jenn Zatopek

AT MERIDIAN STATE PARK LAST FEBRUARY

We drive southward in icy darkness,
climb down the grassy hill to the lake

and behold the Seven Sisters,
the Pleiades, hot young stars only

four-hundred forty-four light years away.
Lake waters shimmer with starlight, 

so close I could reach up
and scoop them into my mouth.

I tell the Sisters my troubles, and
they listen as only stars can do–

My heart is newly broken, I wail,
a revolving door of pain.

Their kindly silence casts shadows
on snow folded near limestone walls

and sturdy ashe juniper and live oaks.
I just lost a soul mate and 

I’ll lose three more by year’s end.
But oh, how I see them shine now, 

hear them sing to me,
old songs of hope and belonging–

There is darkness, yes,
but do not forget the light, 

the light that never leaves you,
that is you. 

Image / Chris Klein on Unsplash