Each launch begins with a prayer

until I have a puncture, a rip, a tear.

Mayday!  Mayday! Mayday!

 

I am always falling

either to the earth or to the stars,

falling forward to God the Father

or father to son.

 

To survive I move in the vacuum

between calm heartbeat

and silent in-breath,

 

hurling to my final mission

to repair a disconnection

of a mind that can

snuff life with a thought

or by sniffling

a remembered tear,

 

knowing not whether to

murder the monstrous soul

or to hug the last, lost dead part.

 

I swim through

the waterfalls of mars

knowing I never really knew you

nor am I you.

 

“Stay where you are.

Do not proceed any further,”

you hiss in loving defiance.

 

In the space in between

I see that madness is

never once thinking of home,

being free of all moral doubt.

 

Tethered to the umbilical

I cut the insanity to the vacuum,

suffocate the space between

with love,

 

until I can no longer see

what is not there,

until I miss what

is right in front of me.

 

In the after-burn from Saturn

I am looking forward

to the day of my self return.

 

I will rely on what is closest to me.

I will live and love.

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