The Spacefarer

I am helpless to resist the cries of the cuckoo
which incite my heart to travel the whale-paths,
over the sea's expanses. - "The Seafarer," translated from the Anglo-Saxon


I can tell you a story of myself.

I have traveled beyond
places where night has meaning,
the familiarity of constellations.
Encased in a web of the strongest metals
a planet's core may offer,
I have toiled at computer consoles,
plotting vectors, examining maps.

I can tell you a story
composed entirely of drifting
above the surfaces of busy planets,
breathing in at each sight of bright cities
through the clouds.

Those who live below,
who light the lamps I see--
I can tell you that they will never look above
and find me, another winking star
in a crowded sky.

I can tell you of a ship
made of grief, made of desire,
made to wander the paths of the dead--

But I yet live.
My lungs draw breath, fill with recycled air;
my heart continues its rhythm.

These worlds hurry onward in their rotation,
and I too cannot resist the call to motion
when another course is charted.

Far better to wander the years between stars
than to be caught
in a planet's long shadow,
rooted in shade, forever staring skyward.

My engines mutter, straining and impatient.
Everything is made ready.
A glance, a final look,
and I shall pass into the deep.


Copyright 2006, Rebecca E. Helton

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