i am an astronaut in love with the ground, the ultimate contradiction.
occasionally the winds of my mind blow me up up up, away to the ethers, away. i lose the dirt beneath my finger nails, the sun in my eyes. oxygen becomes the breath of stars and i float, inflated, round like a fat balloon, above all sense.
up here, in the space beyond space, life grows cold. i whirl alone, a singular planet of flesh and shallow breaths. i disintegrate into the spiral mess of dreams built without foundations.
eventually the tether gets sent up to wrap about bloodless ankles, to yank my body down, down, down. atmospheric burn heats me as i am lowered back to gravity, to density, to home. how nice to feel weight on my bones again, a reminder of how life lives in these tissues and veins and glands. the reunion is all a reintroduction, to the salt and fog and water swimming in my lungs, to the seeds potted in my heart, to the wild grasses growing long and thick at my toes.
when i arrive i apologize, to the ground for losing her. to love dismissed by my arms, too preoccupied to hug anything physical. to the trees, roots, and earthly practicality binding me to existence, i surrender.
in the morning, sunrise greets me as her daughter, floods me with the warmth of mother love. dearest sun, i forget how you cradle me, call me child. i forget how you energize my heart.
space is no place for a body, no place to wander aimlessly for miles, unattended. i was not born to the stars.
i was born here, to seven continents, to seven billion bodies. to blue and green, to red and yellow. to bloodflow of the terrestrial heart.
what a thing to float away from.