I wrote this the day the Columbia fell from the sky. When I relocated to Corsicana, Texas the area was still littered with debris. Hundreds of people lived in "tent city" while they spent their days searching for debris and remains. A truly tragic event. I hope you appreciate the read.

Boyhood Heroes

As I peer above me at fate's surreal trail,
wrought with chaos and rocket fuel,
I find myself, again, caught where
time seems to lament upon this tragedy
that grips our azure canvas.

And again, this boy awaits take-off,
counting along as he watches.
3...2...1...Lift-off.
We have lift-off!
The space shuttle Columbia
is in the air!
...first of it's kind!

His eyes, a gleaming hue
of azure and excitement,
remain motionless except for
the occasional flutter
of rushing eyelashes.

Oh, how grand a day in 1981,
as I rejoiced amidst the roar of classmates
upon this history in the making;
watching, wanting, longing to be there
...among my heroes.

Now, the beckoning sky that so eagerly
swallowed these boyhood heroes
endeavors to savor their stay with
this principled arch of debris
that lingers above me.

Gone is the luster of Columbia's golden era
from tangible existence
among those who remember
to dance among the sympathetic
stars in which we endeavor to understand.

Streaking across the ethereal skies,
they remain endlessly engaged in
the conquest of our Heavens.

Principled in our very existence
they charged headlong into history again
without reservation
...for all of mankind.

Now as a man, worn with the years,
I witness the end of this beginning.
Grief has found me wanting
of these boyhood heroes home.

Yet, in this maturing heart
I already know.
These heroes of mine
are already home.

Copyright, Kevin V. Reese, 2003