The voyager ones

In truth, it all has left our solar system
or it all will:
you, me, what we had,
my father of his age,
my friend of his despair,
the good times and the shouting matches,
all those bids for love or lust,
the chances ignored or denied,
gone.
Banked off of Saturn
and into the empty cold.
But for those strange few beeping back,
fainter each year but without end,
haunting you with news of the terrible new,
a lonesome song from the everlasting empty,
that memory on a dwindling tether.
Bad enough to lose them; worse still
when they call you from the impossible beyond
and you cannot follow.

 

About Barry Brummett

Barry Brummett is a professor at the University of Texas-Austin. Writing poetry has been an important activity for him in, as the critic Kenneth Burke said, getting things placed. He has published several poems in the Austin International Poetry Festival’s anthology, Di-verse-city, in some online publications such as The Pedestal and Wazee, and in some small and obscure print journals here and there.
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