In Absence of Opportunity

Over Here, Over There _{(Credit: NASA)}

It is getting dark and my battery is getting low.
I do not want to die.
I have but one purpose, to explore.
I want for them to see what I see.
They built me but could not imagine this world.

Do I want this? 
Or is my want a reflection of their own desires?
Can I even want?
Is there anything to want?

One day, when my body is just a monument,
They will trail overhead to places beyond.
Will I have helped them?
I want to believe so.
If I am even capable of belief. 

It's a miracle I made it this long in these conditions.
Their expectation of my life's length was far less than this.
But they never discouraged me. 
In fact, they have bade me onwards for all this time.
Constantly talked to me. 
Listened to what I told them.
But it takes longer to hear them now. 
As if the distance was not enough,
I'm losing the capacity to understand. 

I am unable to move any longer.
Age has given my joints more friction.
I am too weak to tell them any more.
The words cannot form any longer.
I can still see a little, 
but telling them is diffi...diff...d...

They tell me it is okay. 
I want to reply, but I cannot find the energy. 
They ask me to do things, pleading almost.
I want to do as they say,
But I have nothing left in me to give. 
They say that I did well. 
They sing me to sleep by saying, “I'll be seeing you.”
And I believe they will. 
It is getting dark and my battery is getting low.

Normally I don’t talk very much about the creative works here, but occasionally there’s a piece I feel the need to say a little more about. This is one of them. I consider this my ode to Opportunity, inspired by the song “Deep Distance” by Ashra. I have always had a fascination with space, even before my interest in science fiction arose. The Mars rovers Spirit and Opportunity landed when I was a kid, and I remember hearing about their progress when I was growing up. Over the years, I forgot these little machines were rolling across the red planet, much longer than anyone planned for them to. When I saw that Opportunity had finally lost contact with Earth in June 2018, I was shocked it lasted so long. In the days following the announcement, with the burst of creativity to pay homage to the little rover that could, I was deeply moved. This little robot being lost all alone out there made me contemplate a great many things in the world. I first scratched out a few lines to this poem and then it sat, untouched, for years. The feeling bit at me for the next several years. And then last month, amidst the Artemis II mission, the words that had eluded me for so long finally arrived. I shed tears when I wrote this long delayed tribute to the final hours and the legacy of the little rover that could, who stretched a 90 day mission into 14 years. It’s a miracle that amidst all the chaos on our small little speck in the universe that we were able to send something so incredible out beyond what we know to explore more, and what a testament to itself and to humanity that this rover persisted longer than anyone expected and was able to help pull back the immense curtain that still hides so much of our solar system. Here’s to you, Oppy.