Most mornings, 

the sun rises in grayscale, 

weighted between two gravities. 

I fasten the mask again— 

it’s thin, too thin— 

hoping it veils 

what flickers beneath. 

 

I’m tired of being praised for holding it together— 

as though silence is sainthood, 

as though endurance is free. 

 

I wonder, 

if the colors I see 

are the same as yours. 

Is my red the burn of a star too near, 

my blue a trench that swallows light? 

Are both tethered by forces I can’t unlearn, 

by concepts I have no words for? 

 

You see a calm ocean; 

I see depths that devour the day. 

You feel warmth; 

I feel fevered stars 

pulling me close 

until my marrow softens. 

 

I live in an orbit 

that never finds its stillness— 

like the mask, 

tasting of salt, 

sweat dripping down my jaw. 

 

Some days I wonder: 

does the mask remember my face? 

Does my skin only know 

its weight without it?  

 

Between that which demands I shine 

and the gravity that pulls me inward, 

I keep searching 

for a corridor where silence softens, 

where wings might hold— 

or at least fracture gently 

without burning, without breaking. 

 

I smile; 

gravity has chosen its pull, 

though each curve is a dialect 

I’ll never master. 

You can’t hear the fracture, 

the pull between quiet and shape. 

With colors I no longer trust, 

I brace for darkness 

behind a brittle smile. 

 

The hues are gone. 

Still, the sun will rise in grayscale. 

I cinch the mask tighter— 

it’s easier 

to let gravity speak 

than ask it to teach you 

its language of shadows.

 

POEM GUIDE AND REFLECTION 

BETWEEN TWO GRAVITIES 

Theme: The hidden effort of appearing “okay” while  

carrying grief. 

This poem gives voice to the quiet labor of functioning while  

grieving. The speaker wears a “mask,” feeling pressure to  

appear calm and resilient even while experiencing a very  

different inner reality. Others may see stability while the  

inner experience feels strained and disorienting. 

The poem invites reflection on how grief can pull a person  

in different directions—between outward expectations and  

inward emotional weight. 

Explore: 

  • What gravities are pulling on you right now? 
  • What does the “mask” look like in your own life?

Dan Stern

Daniel Stern is a retired engineer-turned-astronomer, astrophotographer, and poet whose work explores grief, silence, memory, and renewal. His writing lives at the intersection of science and emotion, where careful observation becomes reflection and language reaches toward what cannot be measured. With a lifelong foundation in analytical thinking, Stern brings a quiet precision to his poetry—grounding it in lived experience while allowing space for ambiguity, wonder, and the unspoken. A defining turning point in his life—and in his writing—was the sudden loss of his son at age 40 from an undiagnosed heart condition. This profound grief reshaped not only his personal world but also his creative voice. What began as a private attempt to make sense of loss gradually evolved into a disciplined poetic practice. His work does not seek to resolve grief, but to inhabit it honestly, tracing how love persists, shifts, and continues in the presence of absence. Through this lens, his poetry resonates with those navigating loss, offering recognition rather than instruction. Stern is the author of The Roar of Silence, a collection of 15 poems born from personal loss and the search for meaning in its wake. He also authored Aphelion, a unique volume that pairs his poetry with deep-sky astrophotography, reflecting his dual passions for language and the cosmos. In both works, the vastness of space becomes a quiet counterpart to the inner landscapes he explores. As an astronomer, Stern’s astrophotography has been recognized numerous times by NASA’s Astronomy Picture of the Day (APOD). He has discovered planetary nebulae and, in collaboration with others, contributed to research published in peer-reviewed astrophysics journals. His scientific work informs his poetic sensibility, particularly in its attention to scale, light, and the unseen forces that shape both the universe and human experience. Daniel Stern lives in Delray Beach, Florida, with his wife, Randie, where he continues to write, observe, and explore the enduring dialogue between the measurable and the immeasurable.

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