Magnificent Desolation

Magnificent Desolation

The second man on the Moon called it “magnificent
desolation” when he first stood upon her powdery surface.
I wasn’t even born then but in my spacesuit,
patching solar panels, I find no better words.

We’re the invading aliens in our shells of titanium,
surrounded by grays and shadows darker
than the deepest night of my childhood
on that blue-white orb hanging above the horizon.

While I consider Earth home, I’ve adapted to this gravity.
If I returned, I’d collapse under unfamiliar weight
but the colony’s recycled air is fresher and mined water cleaner
than any found on that polluted tempest we left behind.

We lost Eden for all the profits to be made
from the magnificent desolation that we laid.

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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5 Responses to Magnificent Desolation

  1. ivor20 says:

    Your finale two stanzas are cosmically profound … and what will “we” do to our next piece of ground ..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. JeanMarie says:

    Great poem B. The ending of course is fab, and I like the story you created to get there.

    Liked by 1 person

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