The Mission

Endeavour Spacewalk 8

by Oonah V Joslin

Did you always want to be a space clown,
space clown, floating above us or are we
at your feet? You tread the giant ball, walk
the high wire, pause for applause you cannot
hear in space. Out-sized suit, your work-a-day
clothes, threading a giant needle wearing
gloves. In your gold visor bowl should you not
drown? You take a tumble but do not fall
down towards this globe, the only show in town
as far as we know.

Your attitude is alien to us.
You are beyond our ken, outside our sphere.
You can move mountains with a single touch,
you are so strong. How like a god you are,
isolated, turning your back on this
world, building a future confidently
up there where other mortals cannot go;
up in the big top.

Dona nobis pacem, space clown.