Wayward Heroes

Those opposed to change, those who still wait

for the Second Coming to free their souls,

ascended forgotten thrones to rule and not govern.

Their news of our death slipped quietly in

among the new laws and changes transmitted

during our planet’s inexorable self demise.

We slept and the announcement waited

like a virus for the right time to infest.

The ship awoke first, then woke me

as we slowed to orbit a planet with

life’s evidence coating its smooth

blue surface, inviting the curious in.

I listened to news of home, the passioned

memorials of their wayward heroes, and heard

morose leaders pining for ignorant votes.

I had trusted them, trusted their words,

trusted their promises, trusted that this mission

would span time and weather portentous whims.

I followed my heart these many light years

to make history, study a new planetary system.

In biostasis, I dreamed and lived a slow life,

elevated at home to the forgotten hero,

relegated to a character children imbued

with the virtues only a legend can exude.

I’ve wakened the others and prepare the first visit

to a planet green with life, looking ahead

without the luxury of looking behind.

To those who receive this final transmission,

we hope for acceptance into aboriginal life and

know we’ll honor this third planet as our own.