A poem submitted by local writer, Charles Gallagher, as we recognize the 50th Anniversary of the Apollo 11 Mission and lunar landing.
Oh, the enormity.
Cylindrical steel more than football-field tall
catches the dawn glow, transferring it to the unpainted
silver that dares the reflection into the Florida sky.
As the “Go” command echoes from Houston to Cape
where men in white shirts sit erect in anticipation
of having a hand in hurling the rocket’s seven-year pledge
onto a journey toward tranquility.
It is born in an explosion
that roars at the anger of being frozen to launchpad
before climbing with raw power to be enveloped
in silent blackness, as it begins the days-long journey,
escaping the hands of father Zeus and womb of mohter
No longer a myth, this Apollo.