Aurora 2021 Mag

Briana Cramer

Open Letter to Myself Upon Graduation

Remember the nights when tears were like meteors on your pillow Staining Neptune-Blue drop-sized craters on your bed sheets

When your head was under so much pressure Being smothered by gravity and water pressure

By the God of the sea himself School was burning you alive The sun we all revolved around, day and night Poor little you, Mercury, the Messenger of the Gods The smallest of your companions The most important How painful it must be to know that you can never outrun the grip of a supernova Well baby girl, you survived. Today you move on to a different solar system A different galaxy

Not even Jupiter could pull you back Your orbital strings have been cut

And you hold the scissors How satisfying it must feel

That Pluto finally completed a full orbit And still had the strength to break away You are stronger than the dwarf they call you The rest of the world does not know the courage within you – yet.

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