Born
The poem Born is written by the Dutch poetess Sterre (SiSterrePoetry). She uses the metaphor of a shooting start to describe how new life is born and what it feels like, entering this world.

The poem Born is written by the Dutch poetess Sterre (SiSterrePoetry). She uses the metaphor of a shooting start to describe how new life is born and what it feels like, entering this world.

Born
Image source: AdinaVoicu / Pixabay

Introduction

Sterre studies History and lives in The Netherlands. She writes poetry and publishes her work on her own website and her Instagram account. With her poetry, she wants to step over the boundaries or borders.

“Writing feels natural. I know, there are a lot of folks who claim that they need to do this. I am not an exception. I write because I need to do this. To me, there is no difference in writing about love, heartbreak (unfortunately) or nature. The inspiration is everywhere!”

Writing to her is indeed natural. She realizes that she needs images to combine with her poems, otherwise people might not notice them.

“When scrolling on Insta, people look at pictures. Later on, they focus on words. That is why I select photos to combine with my poems. If it were up to me, I would just write and post (without photos). But, I can adjust myself.”

About Born

At first, you might think this poem is out of balance when it comes to the usage of the present- and past tense. At first, Sterre writes in the present tense. This is because this is a phenomenon that occurs. Then she starts to relate to her own life and her birth. Metaphor on metaphor.

“No, I know that I was born in the way babies are born. This is just me relating the impact of a shooting start (actually a comet) with that of my birth. My life has not always been that easy and I see this shooting star as an occurrence that made me born. Or reborn. Whatever you prefer.”

 

Born

Born

There are myriad celestial bodies
one of them is falling
One of those beauties
is advancing
Till there is no way to stop
this journey into devastation
Then there is just this drop
This damnation
It ends in pieces of rock
And from that rock, my heart hatched
In the aftershock
of fire, my heart was scratched
By ice water falling from the atmosphere
Leading to nothing but fear

Sterre

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