by Sam Ward ’21
The captive in the cargo hold
Was the captain of a space vessel, Captured, or so we’re told,
With ancient symbols superimposed On her chest, classic bodies,
What are they worth,
With no cause or effect?
Do you hail from a distant star? Some planetary figure,
Where foreign tongues scratch Alien fibers stitched up in the skins Of strange beasts, like some Rudimentary interface for Pre-space faring communication.
The creative impulse embedded in creatures, To conceive, to birth, to raise,
Has released sources of energy,
Unfit for the hands of their makers.
I still think of her, or what was told, Clutching her possessions, Crashing to the surface.
You skirted evolution,
Caught not in space,
But some time lost
To the atoms of enlightened matter. Your cursed tombs will burn,
When we break through the atmosphere. Down, down, down, down, descent.