Those That Fall Gain Fire in Their Flight
Vincent Hostak
February 10, 2021
Villanelle for Officer Brian Sicknick on the occasion
of presenting his remains at the Capitol Rotunda
In this sky, though stars are many, they are slight.
Streetlamps obstruct the wandering unnamed,
More vivid somewhere, but here with pale rays fight.
If the night were richly black, those afar would blaze.
You’d see these earthbound lanterns bend, ashamed.
In this sky, though stars are many, they are slight.
A tiny wooden box, ashes held from sight,
How can this vessel hold all that we call brave,
More vivid somewhere, but here with pale rays fight?
Retreat the flag, lower, fold thrice and tight,
Press stars to glass, six then four make ten we’ll save.
In this sky too, though stars are few, they are bright.
No one kneels, all move surely, stand upright.
They march slowly as each to one’s own grave,
More vivid somewhere, but here with pale rays fight.
Like stars, those that fall gain fire in their flight.
Some burn angry, some noble in every stave.
In this sky, though stars are many, they are slight,
More vivid somewhere, but here with pale rays fight.
Vincent Hostak is a poet, essayist, and advocate. Long a resident of Texas, he resides in the intersection of city and wilderness near Denver. His poetry is published in Sonder Midwest (#5), Tejascovido.com, the Langdon Review of the Arts in Texas, and Wild, Abandoned (the blog). His podcast on refugee resettlement & culture: https://anchor.fm/crossingsrefugees.
