Sensing your discomfort,
like a smell in the air.
Loath to broach the topic,
as if popping a blister.
Not sure what we’ll unleash.
So habitual,
our segregation
of all our emotions.
Occasionally,
we operate
as if the atmosphere
is unsuitable
for human life.
Build up in our spacesuit minds
a defense
against perceived peril,
but if we took off our helmets,
we’d find the air is good
and clean,
and capable of supporting life.
You don’t have to be an astronaut
To exist here.
It’s not that bad.
Although at times
it can seem inhospitable,
this place does not shun you.
That’s all in your head.
HG – 2019