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