The Problems of Space Travel
by Notty Bumbo, 2015
I woke today thinking
It might be a new world
I was stepping onto, the bed
A ship that carried only me,
And the dream I once had,
Where no one broke,
No one died in horror.
I wondered what this new world might ask,
Whether I had brought dis-ease,
Ideas that might cause anguish to their midst.
I began rehearsing, trying to anticipate
Their reaction to the truth of my origins,
To the place that had engendered me
And my kind, the question as to whether indeed
Were we kind?
Did we hold each closely to our hearts?
Did every day seem as important as the last?
Had we caused harm?
I reached for the door of my room,
Paused a moment more, doubting, doubting.
In the end, I returned,
Hoping, I think,
To contain the virus.
To leave only one world in mourning,
And all the others,
With their own imperfect joys.