Becoming interstellar

Jane Warren | Spring 2024

Orion has always been my favorite constellation. That might be because its concise, triplet belt is easy to find. Whether my attraction to Orion came out of the congruent simplicity of its distinct three-starred belt, I am not sure. I like to think there’s a more meaningful reason it compels me; why else would it always appear first when I look up at the stars? 
Freckles, beauty marks, and moles sporadically adorn my skin. I’d never paid much attention to them— their placement, their formations, their groupings. As I get older, the spots have darkened, morphed; they have begun to show themselves to me with less hesitancy. 
Telescoping around my limbs, I happened first upon a trio of dots on my right forearm; then, a string on my left arm, and another on my shoulder; a fourth drew itself out on my right cheek. Impressions of belts graced my skin— starry little lines much like the glowing dots that magnetize my eyes at night. 
Noticing these constellation moles, these celestial beings inscribed upon my skin, was the first time I had ever witnessed my body as cosmically beautiful. The cosmos writes itself upon me, connecting me to Orion’s spectacular light and splendor and linking me to every other eternally glowing star in the universe. I, too, am resilient, nebulous, and luminous beyond the limits of this earth. I, too, am a divine body.