Stranded And Bereft Poem by Daniel Brick

From an Astronaut's Journal

I see the sky stretch its arms
far passed the contours of its confinement.
They penetrate the outer space which is
my confinement for whole seasons.
If this were earth, I would be
witnessing a natural miracle. Stranded
on this alien world, I can't tell
if it is miracle or routine. What if
a miracle for me is a tedious fact
of this place? Am I so divided
from any connection to this planet?
Can I ever close the gap between us?

Earth is the Long-Ago for me, I have
no credible time frame. Oh, the beauty
of earth stung me as it receded behind me
in a paroxsym of speed, myself hurled
into deep space. We scoff at the psychological
training at the Space Academy, eager to be free.
We were fully matured human beings, no longer
tied to nature. How arrogantly we severed ourselves
from the sea of feelings, the tides of emotion,
the swelling of thr heart. Even now the old language,
the poetry rushes into a mind purged for cognition.

There is an owl-like bird native here.
I hear his mournful cry cut through
the descending clouds as sunlight dims.
Before they smother me, and deepen my aloneness,
I listen for him. Is he protesting the deeper
darkness, or is his song just an event parallel
to nightfall? I want to see the owl's fierce red
eyes illuime this darkness, make it light
to my touch, weightless to my sight. I want to be
reborn as a child to this place. I want to assume
my place in this nature....