Persephone
by Christina Sng
I
lie by the fire,
Exhausted, heavy, staring
Up at the sullen red
sky,
Our new home, a moon
200 light years from Earth.
It
is as reluctant as us.
We name it Persephone,
In hopes that
Spring
Will come, beneath
The dim amber Sun and
The
dark-ringed planet
Persephone orbits around.
By the water,
we build shelter,
Wooden constructs so comforting
After a
lifetime encased in metal.
On the roofs, we line leaves
Cut
from the flora, deep dark green
In the shape of a heart,
An
understandable development,
Says our botanist, Jade,
Studying
their massive size,
Each leaf having to work
So much harder
to absorb rays
From their fading Sun.
But it will be a
million years
Before it supernovas.
We can still build a home
here.
Our lifetimes are not that long.
After all on Earth,
humans
Only endured 200,000 years
Before destroying our
planet
And vacating for greener pastures.
The damage is
done.
Whether we survive
Also depends
On the fauna.
Our
scans pick up
Heat signals from many areas
But cannot
determine
Their sizes or threat levels.
With Persephone’s
high gravity,
We estimate they won’t be giants,
Yet when
the 100-foot serpent
Slithers out of the water,
We
disperse,
Fleeing into the jungle,
Its stout flora making
it easier
For us to spot predators.
We do not see the
sinkholes
In the ground nor the massive
Sand octopus residing
beneath.
Jack, our sensors guy, thought
Its massive body
was a heat source.
It covers a tenth of the moon.
We lose
half our force
To its relentless tentacles
By the time we reach
higher ground,
The first hilltop
In a hundred miles
Only
to realize
It is the domed shell
Of an enormous creature
In
hibernation.
We live peacefully
Amid its benign flora,
Food
and water plentiful
As the rain arrives
And we build
shelter
With the mosses we gather
From its shell
Till
the day it awakes,
Years later,
Violently shaking off
All
parasites on its back,
Especially those who set fires.
We
survive,
Fleeing to the swamps.
A poor choice.
The land
is dead
And for good reason.
It is filled with quicksand.
We
cross it quickly
Losing a tenth of us,
Reaching the other
side,
An open savannah
Cut by an angry river
And a row
of low brush clusters.
This will be our home
Till summer
arrives,
Bringing the grazers
And the crawlers,
Both
competing with us
For the succulent grass.
We promptly
depart,
Following the river
To a waterfall,
Riding with
gravity
Till the water runs out
At the tip of the
desert,
Where Persephone’s
Darkest creatures live—
The
skittering monsters
With razor-sharp pincers,
Spilling our
blood
Across the rose-tinged sand.
The few of us
Who
make it
Through the wasteland
Find ourselves parched,
Back
at the lake
Where we first landed.
We have come full
circle.
We have mapped the moon.
It is time to
settle.
Tonight, I lie
Under the sullen red sky
By our
space shuttle,
Sending a message
Back to our world,
Telling
them we are alive.
We’ve learned to live
Here on
Persephone,
Moving each season
To a more habitable
zone,
For a time,
Living in harmony,
In rhythm with
nature,
We’ve become a part of this moon.
Persephone has
become our home.