We Are Astronauts

Talk about breaking the glass ceiling

They do not want to be recognized as women or female astronauts

They are astronauts, period.

They have jobs from the Ground Up

Some are from the Military

Some are Mission Commanders and pilot astronauts

Some are mission specialists and spacewalkers

There are women of color, of various races and creeds.

MD’s and PhD’s

Brilliant minds all.

 

Sally Ride was the first

Christina Koch- 1^st on Artemis mission around the moon.

61 + 6 new trainees

On missions

Since 1978

Trailblazing

Inspired and Empowered.

There are record holders:

For Most Flights, Most Time in Space

Longest Stay in Space, Most Spacewalks, and Longest Spacewalk.

YES, We Can.

Lunar Launch Party

 

 I used to have parties

Back in Hawaii

They were hurricane parties

Bottoms up parties

To alleviate the worry parties

Stock up, slow down, and gratitude parties

 

A few-- bring everything inside parties

Sedate the Great Danes for New Year’s parties

Church fellowship parties

Aerobic Ministry parties

A memorable 40^th Birthday party.

No time for the blues parties

 

Sail Away parties

Marathon running parties

Launching Book parties

Making my first Art sale parties.

Pen Women parties

Hiking milestone parties.

 

Dinners

Luncheons

Even breakfast parties.

Sons, stepsons, and stepdaughters’ yearly Birthday parties

I used to have parties

Now, I go to parties.

The point is to celebrate every minute of every day 

because life is a gift when you’re rich with friends and family.  

Cos, Can, Can

And No Can, No Can

Besides, time is fleeting, smarty. 

Tony The Spelunker

 

I had done an excellent job

of prepping.  The camera was on standby,

the compressor

humming, the propofol was dripping.

 

I counted backwards from 100

And soon I slipped into my alter ego

Gina, the caver.

Sixty-one, athletic,

well-proportioned, and mostly tan.

 

Gina followed the prompt set by the anesthesiologist, whose name she still can’t remember.

He said,” Dream about Tony the Spelunker.”

Tony was forty-five, had a six-pack, and loved shiny dark passageways.

 

Gina relaxed, and soon Tony appeared 

She showed Tony her headlamp

Tony was sporting his new dive watch 

with fully charged gas tritium tubes. 

 

Tony and Gina 

went spelunking through a remote section of the tunnel,

where several sulfurous geysers 

had freshly erupted, 

in search of polyps

and other strange outgrowths.

Tony was amazed at the colors of the stalagmites and stalactites inside the wet cave.  He used his watch to make his way through the tiny pathway and searched for the perfect place to unpack and share his potato skins. Tony and Gina laughed and talked, and soon it was time for Gina to wake up. 

 

She was still smiling when the Doctor asked if she was okay to stand up. She nodded, waved, and blew a kiss at Tony before she left. His watch blinked once in response. They had promised to meet again in about ten years. 

 

 

©Cornelia DeDona 4/2/26

 

 

 To The Psychologist Who Pins Tails 

on Unsuspecting Patients While 

Blindfolded

 

 

I muse on the rush 

of hope, pain, and possibility. And to sum it up in five words seems

mind-numbingly sparse. But that is the nature of this task.

So, I slide my perspective carefully up for your review.

 

Brain imaging can save lives. Seeing matters.

Brains can heal.

 

Call me divergent. I like to use tools.

I am a Libra. I like balance in my brain. 

 

 Besides, a mere phrase would not suffice or

elicit the right melody. Hallmark cards evoked strong memories. 

Before, my hopes were dashed by skilled care. And replaced by an eternal 

doubt that lay at length on your soft couch. 

 

Still, here we are. Digging up the past, specifically

a deer frozen in the headlights, while the future stays dark. 

Blindfolded and grasping for answers, we pin the tail and call it healing.  

 

Let’s face it. 

It will take years to lift the weight that binds him. 

And I am tasked with five measly adjectives to capture his wit. 

Even as our world frays—from farce to poisoned water. 

 

No Kings

  

No Kings

To bow before

The roar is compelling

The horns, the traffic, the people 

Chanting.

 

Peaceful

Composed Protest

Against unchecked power

Resistance becomes nationwide

Duty. 

 

Oppose

The regime

The planned takeover

Loss of freedoms and injustice

Symbol.

To W.S.Merwin

 Let us run naked in the tall grass

Let us frolic as children

our nimble limbs dancing

atop young dandelion heads

diffusing the air with wild calm.

 

Let us exhale red-lipped verse

as if the blackness of the universe

were but a comma in our sentence.

Let us sing in the meadow like the plovers, 

home at last.  Let us warm ourselves

in the commitment of the Sun.

share our wonder 

with the monarch, 

our two backs lying flat 

chewing on metaphors

as the cool green grass pokes our necks 

and persistent flies tickle our form.

Let us muse over the matchlessness,

Of this finite exotic jungle.  And let us plant a tree,

Not just any tree, but an endangered Palm.

One lonely orphan left in the wild

Needing a home, a small piece of 

the earth to hold fast to. 

 Focusing on 2020

 

 

This retired senior captured a sunrise today

in natural light with a full-frame camera.

She is an iPhone witness to birds spreading their gorgeous broad wings, a rainbow in a fountain, and can attest to having spotted the Easter bunny.

 

She is among the multitudes

transmitting their art from remote locations across the vast wireless divide and

wondering which photographic filter to apply in a world frantically adapting to change.  Observing through a long lens

 

her fellow humans scouring novel viruses from cracked fingers

Flushing the disease   down the muddied drain

of remembrance.

In a daze of black and white.

In search of the new normal

avoiding contact, maintaining a six-foot distance, then touching gloveless 

the same credit scanner, dollar bills, soda can.

 

As the idiots spit into the lettuce, cough at clerks,

Their vacant stares mock the establishment.

 

The rest of us are

scratching itchy eyes, ears, and noses

 

reckoning our mutual frailties.

A merciful how and when, if now, 

will the end come?