The Great Stowaway

I.
Where we’re going, interstellar,
I’m not sure we still need country.
Pack the things we need or might need
Each other, intercontinental.
Except the meek of mind, intolerant,
I’m not sure we still need them.
Pack the fuel to push us forward,
All of us, interstellar
I can’t wait to get a way
to get away,
this great getaway.

II.
And when you imagine a rocket lifting
You think: up, we are going up
To the clouds and through them
To the heavens if we knew them
To the stars if can reach them
Because there’s no home left here
Where we’re going
Is not up
Because the universe is everywhere
Down
Around
_Prepare Ignition
We will need each other
_Countdown
Everyone of us
_10
For lift off
_9
Up up and away, as they say
_8
Don’t look down, they will say
_7
Every which way, is what I want to say
_6
We once needed the tribe
_5
No more
_4
To fuel our rocket skyward
_3
To go beyond tomorrow
_2
We must get beyond today
_1
Where we are going
_Ignition
Where are we going?
Where are we going?
Are we going up?

III.
The city’s embers awake, orange
From this height I’m not sure
From this height I’m just not sure
From this height are there people really there?
From this height I just don’t know
From this height I just see orange
Glowing like the last of our fire
And this long night is lightless otherwise
and otherwise others’ wisdom
is lightless on this long night
on this long night I’m just not sure
Are there people really there?
Otherwise I just don’t know
There’s no wisdom down there

IV.
This passenger, a young one
She packed her owl
All knowing but stuffed
And doesn’t say much
Doesn’t fly away
This night owl, she clutches
To stay the fear of this rocket
Hurtling through space
And soon we grow close, all of us
Packed so tightly on this vessel
And we to hold this owl
Or some animal
We packed so many
Packed so tightly on this ark
The wise owl knows, she says
And so we obey
Our awkward discomfort

V.
We invented a word for earth-dreams
Those regurgitated flashes of a time passed
That we maintain
Like last night’s dinner thinking up
when it should think down
It was delicious back then
but you can’t really remember taste
and it turns out we packed some guilt
the great stowaway
and so we call them forgivens, the dreams
as in you’re forgiven
and this became like a gesundheit
after a sneeze, a word devoid of meaning
but kind
and we need all the reminders of kindness
that we can possibly dream

VI.
Hollow gram from the past
Sent into the black sky
Upon the day when we dare
To leave this place behind.