Star Sanctuary

I've been reading Native American poetry today.  Many of the poems are exceedingly simple.  Many are chants.  All seem to be songs.  This neo-sonnet came to me this evening, after I read "The sky loves to hear me."  A Friendly Song, by Mabezic, tr. from the Chippewa by Frances Densmore (tbc)  Before I could write it down, and while I was still thinking up a title, a friend emailed that she was planning a trip to New Zealand, to a star sanctuary.  I've never heard of such a place, but the words struck a beautiful counterpoint to the thought in my poem, that although, sometimes, the poet's intended audience is not inclined to listen, still, there is satisfaction in expression for expression's sake, in simple but heartfelt thoughts sent out into the universe, 'to the stars,' to God.  (tbr)  The last line of both stanzas can be read  in two ways: either as invitation for another to express feelings, or, as complaint.

The sky loves to hear me,
hears my story,
hears my song.
The sky loves to hear me,
hears my sorrow,
hears my joy.
The sky loves to hear me,
hears my gladness,
my complaint.
Why not you?

The sky loves to hear me,
so I will tell my story,
I will sing my song
to the stars.  Why not you?
                             -- Shirley Smith Franklin, April 4, 2011