Gleams of light spill through
and drift across the atmosphere
as she winds her way through
errant space eternal.
Goddesses called down the heavens
once upon a very long, long time ago,
but now those days are gone to dust,
scattered across galaxies alight.
When she signed up for the mission,
she thought she would be gone
for a month, maybe two, or half-a-year —
but she is verging on six months among stars.
Each pinprick of light winking at her
reminds of days when streetlights
welcomed her home from the bus stop,
all the way down to her cheap apartment.
But now space-proof glass separates her
from that which would only kill her
if she broke past the barriers and tried
to touch the burning gas of constellations.
When she goes to sleep at night —
though really it is always night —
she dreams of ice cream and long walks,
sunlight instead of space-cold spaces.
It will only be another few months,
but time is strange off-planet,
away from other humans to touch,
no connections besides hazy feeds.
Tomorrow, she will imagine an earth
free from so much disaster that open space
feels like a future refuge, an escape,
because all she wants is a warm bed.
The satellite station whirls and hums,
settling into zero-gravity above the earth,
and someday soon she will be back
on a planet that’s a broken home — but it’s hers.
Originally published at https://vocal.media.