interstellar

Every night she looks up at the moon
and dreams of faraway places
where the ground isn’t cold
and the walls aren’t lonely and silent
with regret

Monotony comes with the struggle to survive
food on the table and sheets on the bed
escape comes in the form of H.P. Lovecraft
a torch and a starry sky lit up by the only guardian angel
she’s ever known

She reminds herself every new moon
that just because she can’t see her pock-marked guardian
doesn’t mean that he’s not there
because unlike everyone else in her life
the moon isn’t going anywhere

She writes mini sci-fi stories
on napkins and the back of receipts
and pins them to her bedroom wall
interspersed with the photos of Mars-like beaches

Dreaming isn’t just a past time
it’s a way of life
a reason to get out of bed in the morning
because hope is a candle she’ll never willingly blow out
when there are books to read and far-off galaxies to explore
beyond the horizon of her guardian

Every night she looks up at the moon
and dreams of faraway places
believes that only astronauts are free
and space will be the salvation of her Earth-tethered soul
if only she can reach out and touch the rocky face of the only man
she’s ever loved
before jumping out into the interstellar black
and a freedom that only the endlessness of space can know

© Indie Adams 2014