My mom is ill.
Nothing I can do but to stand still.
Fate pounds at the door with much zeal.
I am pretending that my soul is made of steel.
But this is how I really feel:
I am halting a hurricane with butterfly wings,
I am stopping a fire with a tear stream.
I am flying to the moon on rusty swings,
I am listening for a melody but I can’t sing.
I am building a dream castle out of thin air,
I am fixing an engine that's beyond repair.
I am whispering a prayer into the merciful Space
And all I am hearing in my head is, “Impact imminent. Brace!”