Reaching for the moon
was never the same
after I’d touched it.
Reaching out, placing
my fingers on the
smooth, worn surface was
a defining moment.
And this knowledge has sustained me
through all those times when the moon and stars
no longer shine. When, disempowered, earth
has been trapped in our capitalist hate crime.
The space capsule, looking homemade
with little toggles just like my dolls’ house,
survived fire on re-entry. Earth waits its moment.
There is a window,
window to the future
of this blue dot; the moon,
I discovered in Air’n’Space,
like the Blarney Stone,
rewards all who touch it.