Purple skies climb higher for a while
Then spread wings and fly out, leaving us behind
With nothing to see.
Not even the darkness, it left too.
The atmosphere is solid
Inhaled through gears and wheels
That grind it into a soup we can ingest
But there is no comfort here.
The sun was taken away before it went nova
And there is a blue space that burns my eyes
I know I must leave, like the rest
Yet, this is home.
The propaganda-bots are steaming around
Leaving leaflets and trails of exhausted fumes
Telling us to leave, for our sakes, they say:
Emigration Is The Only Way!
I don’t want to meet new neighbours
Or learn new words and how to walk
In a changed gravity
Or wear communicators.
I like water, remnants of molecules dance in air.
Nowhere else has the real stuff
Certainly, not enough – to drink
That’s what I heard.
My family relocated decades ago
Took the incentive-package
To go to somewhere I can’t pronounce
And I see them once a year, when the signals meet up.
They’re happy. They adapted. Or, were
Adapted to fit. They seem odd to me now – changed
And with new faces and words and ways.
No I don’t want to go. I’ll stay.
this was submitted to a sci-fi mag, sadly they didn’t publish it, but we writers have to try!
Emigration is the only way by Elizabeth Haley-Wood