voyager
By nabila hanna - 05.27
[voyager, we have a message for you]
i was writing my report earlier this morning when this memory came back to me. on the day you left, i remember how we couldn't walk off of the launching pad. someone had to drag us away. we just stood there, staring at the trails of exhaust gases. there was pride, filling the gaps of our ribs. but there were also anxiousness, sadness, grievance, and things that a child wouldn't recognize until they have one of their own.
back then, we knew that it's going to be an undeniably lonely journey for you. piercing through true darkness, not knowing if you're actually taking any step closer to discovery. but you did. you did discover many new things. pictures of you and your novel inventions came through the deep space network to our computer. we marveled on your new costumes, new names they call you on the news. those were a source of strength for us. for while you were adapting to how the microgravity held you, we were adjusting to the emptiness of the station you left. it helped that we're witnessing first hand how you flourish into someone of praise. cheering from afar while you successfully manage every harsh terrain, mapping new parts of the universe, growing to be something we had always wished you to be.
but it came to our realization that gentleness was the cost of your growth. soon the gaps between one news and another became unbearable. you begin to sound like a cruel stranger. sending radio signals that felt more like jabs. we must've looked so different from your altitude. i just never thought that it would disgust you this much. the noise exposure must've clouded your brain to the point of forgetting that this is what you used to call home. things like that happen i suppose. maybe you were exhausted. maybe the constant motion sickness drained you out. maybe it was the realization of something bigger. maybe the knowledge you've acquired makes it harder for you to accept our flaws, thus leading you to reject your own origin. maybe we could've tried to prevent it. maybe it was inevitable.
we would have loved to endure it all with you, you know. we would have loved to share every turbulences, to hold you through every collision. when the air is getting thin and nothing is working, we would have send any means possible to take you home. the government wont have any chance to stand between us and your safety. but you're drifting further and further away now. delving deeper into parts of the cosmic we have yet to understand. it's getting harder to reach you. people were starting to tap our shoulders, telling us that it'll be best to prepare ourselves.
we have no regret. loving you always came easy for us. you were bright and dense with laughter. you were soft in your disposition, clever in your mirth. sending you away was the hardest thing we've ever done, but we knew it was for the best. in the end, if this is the version that you need, to be able to navigate your journey, then so be it. it wouldn't make us love you any less. we recognize the walls you've put up and our final form of respect is to stay on our lane. just give us a call, will you? we missed you dearly. and while it might be an inconvenience for you; an added use of fuel, a waste of energy, knowing that you're safe would ease our sleepless nights.
our prayers will always be with you. advancing higher and higher to the place you're moving towards.
but for now, that's all from me. this massage turns out to be longer than i expected, and i know that i'm holding you back so i'll stop.
i'll let you back to work. take care.
[clicked]
0 comments