Death on the Moon

To die on the Moon,

that’s what I want.

I want to drink a bottle

of red wine, put on a

spacesuit, spacewalk to

a moon folding chair and

sit, facing the Earth.

And die.

I want to see the planet

I’ve called home in its fullness

and wholeness and try to

work out why it’s so hard to

live there.

From the moon,

where I die.

I want each Spacesuited breath,

to be filled with awe and wonder

as I pass from this life to the

next. I want to watch the world

spin and see it go on without me.

I know that it won’t happen.

I will never set foot on the Moon.

I’ll never go to Space. I’ll never

see the Earth as a whole,

So I guess I can never die.

On the Moon,

like I want.