Birth by fire.

For eleven days
we three men
leave our Mother’s
arms but never
her reach. Earth
shines; the Moon
is far away.

Mother’s reach stifles:
the nest cannot
hold us now.
We do not
go far: just
to peer at
the dark side
of bright Luna.

Luna welcomes us
and Mother’s heart
breaks in pride
and wistful longing.
My dusty footsteps
will linger here
for decades, but
Earth begs us
to return. We
leave flags, boots,
and predecessor ghosts.

Birth by fire.
Oxygen is our
lifeline and our
fiery garrote here.
Luna falls away
and worried Mother
stares in horror
at her floundering
children. God beckons
but Mother won’t
let go. She
pulls us gently
to her breast.

This is our
last love affair
with bright Luna.
We slink away
in black night
to touch her
and we linger
longer than ever
before, filling our
eyes with her,
our dusty lover.
We orbit her.
We orbit her
but Mother calls
and her call
stirs our souls:
Earth waits, children.

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