Previously Published Poem

 Space Walker

Navigating around this place,
in this suit of many layers,
 reptilian scales
and mammalian glands,
I follow, 

however reluctantly,
 the robotic directions,
 a woman's
monotone voice,
 not my own.
The voice  echoes from within
a hidden  circuit
of programmed instructions,  
Take a left 

then a right,

go straight, 

turn around

the downloaded data chirps
as I make my way
to the flag before me.
I am told when
to fight, to flee, to freeze
with each zap of current that
courses through me
from the exposed
and tender roots
of the  electrical network,
humming on the outer layer
of this suit I think I am.

This entangled wiring,
with its preprogrammed function
to warn and protect,
makes the fleshy portion
of me within
jump and retreat
like a skittish fawn
with each bump, 

each change in atmosphere,
each misstep.


I walk carefully,
slowly,
feeling the weight
of mechanical
and social gravity.
Each foot I lift
is heavy and slow,
precisely calculated
to be acceptable,
just like those
of the walkers before me,
leaving a deep
irreversible imprint
on the ground beneath  me.

I reach out my hungry  
telescopic limbs
to grab what is valuable ,
collecting  the moon rocks
and galaxial gems
 that will make
this journey worthwhile,
placing them in the suit's
many  storage compartments,
feeling somehow lighter, 
the heavier the container
and I  become.


I decorate my suit
in the beads of star dust
that fall around me,
making myself,  
even in this heavy garment,
as attractive and unique
as I possibly can.
I display my hard earned titles
and initials on a well lit placard
that dangles around  my neck,
making sure it is especially visible
as the light around me fades.
I am told by this robotic voice
that I must stand out
amongst the other walkers
and
at the same time
I must blend in.


I hear my breath
panting and heaving
within the confines of my suit
as I make my way
to the center of my Life.
I do my best
to heed the directions,
to avoid the zaps of pain,
to make my imprint known,
to take what I can,
and be as noticeable
and recognizable,
yet as similar
and unobtrusive 
as a separate walker
 can be...

But the suit is so heavy,
and the programming  
so restrictive,
and the flag
that does not move
in the windless air
seems to get farther away
with each step
I take toward it.  

Something within me,
some little voice
beneath the programming
and the installed
external  reactivity
whispers..."stop".
I do.

I stop in my tracks
and remove the helmet.
I breathe
for the first time
without the need
of external support.
I remove my heavy garment
and feel the weightlessness
of unlimited space
as I rise untethered
into emptiness.
I watch from
an elevated  distance
as the rocks and gems
that were once
tucked within the suit's
many pockets
 roll away.
I am free.

© Dale-Lyn (pen) July, 2020