Trappist-1 (I Won’t Even Look Across the River)
Trappist-1 (I Won’t Even Look Across the River)
No ship will be big enough
to take us all.
As for me, if I’m in the vicinity
of Washington, D.C.
I’ll lie face down
upon the ground at Arlington,
among blades worn
by those whose wars
are done,
just listening
to that grass grow.
*********************************
55 for Kerry O’Connor’s prompt on Real Toads.
Process Note – Trappist-1 is a new planetary system recently discovered by NASA astronomers, with planets that may be inhabitable by humans. (Rendering above, such as it is, is mine.)
Arlington is the U.S. national military cemetery, located just across the Potomac from the national mall in Washington, D.C., a place where U.S. veterans and spouses have been buried since the Civil War.
Explore posts in the same categories: 55, UncategorizedTags: 55 word poem, April 2017 National Poetry MOnth, arlington cemetery poem, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, I won't be on the ship I fear, manicddaily, Trappist-1
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ManicDDaily 
April 2, 2017 at 4:08 pm
Only the few will be blessed to sarcophage away… I think I prefer to bite the grass.
April 2, 2017 at 5:42 pm
a sense of rue, and sorry, and yet also honor, and patience here ~
April 2, 2017 at 7:55 pm
How brilliantly you suggest the final disaster which would need some of us to try and venture elsewhere – without ever mentioning it.
April 2, 2017 at 10:58 pm
There’s such a finality to this. An acquiesce to one’s fate. The Dylan in me wants to rail, this is not your final Frontier.
April 2, 2017 at 11:30 pm
Nice to see your NaPoWriMo entry, K. I’d probably take my granddaughter and her roommates out for a LAST MEAL at The Tombs restaurant. She is a sophomore at Georgetown University.
I did “an Acrostic poem, Aquarious, Trappist-1” which was factual and not doomsday oriented.
..
April 3, 2017 at 1:19 am
I appreciate the very humanness of this portrait, the logistics of space travel weighed against letting go of our ancestral past, the sweet grass of home.
Thank you for participating, Karin. I miss your poetic voice.
April 3, 2017 at 3:10 pm
I don’t think I’d wanna be in that ship either. Show me to the grass.
April 3, 2017 at 4:56 pm
Oh this is soo tender! Such a lovely write.