Space Race

Why do they call it a world war;

Does Earth know what she’s fighting for?

Do planets buy up bombs and guns

To blow themselves to kingdom comes?

There have been two, apparently.

So by my count this must be three.

Though we’ve been trained to look for flags –

Those national interests shown by rags

Of different colours and designs -

And so been blind to clearer signs

Of actual deaths, manmade by those

Whose acts and journeys just arose

To serve some purpose.  Who knows what.

Did someone know but then forgot?

Perhaps it’s all to prove a name,

Or find another one to blame,

To own some rocks, to earn some cash,

Or just to make a bigger splash.

So when they look for life on Mars,

By sending rockets to the stars,

I look and see the Martians came.

It must be them.  Who’d kill the same

Species?  Knock off their shared genes?

That would be crazy.  All these scenes

Of mothers clutching dying young.

Please say a Martian fired the gun.

A human would not be so mad

To kill that unique chance we had.

Maybe an Einstein or a Bard.

Replacing them will not be hard

But physically cannot occur,

The spacetime changed which means that her

Tiny creation, one that grew

Inside and after pain she knew

Them in the world, has gone

For good.  Or bad, if you believe that wrong

Exists, and not that might is right,

Or faster missiles or most hands

To throw grenades in distant lands.

We’ve gone to Mars and so this fuss.

It’s that, or Mars has come to us.