A/N: Poem "Here" by Wislawa Szymborska, translated from Polish by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak.
He does not smile.
(Death shatters me.)
He is quiet and still, breathing even.
(I am breathing.)
He wanted me to know, why he could not let me die.
Why he went back for me.
The Prime Directive is not, as is believed, meant to preserve the fates of peoples.
The Prime Directive is the right for any world to become an enemy of the Federation.
Technology does not give the right to dictate.
(Life is the right to live.)
I want him to know, why I cannot let him die.
Why I fought for him.
(The shadows of our hands)
I am tired of being afraid.
There must be more to life than this-
unending grief, destruction, obsession with war.
There must be more.
I will not accept that we are fated to witness
thousands upon millions upon trillions of deaths
red matter spilled everywhere.
I will not accept it.
I have seen enough.
I have seen enough.
We have seen enough.
We are not fated to meet the same peoples, face the same deaths.
We are not fated to walk the same path to destruction.
There is more to life.
There is more to life.
There is life.
I am breathing.
He is quiet and still, breathing.
I have lived believing I had nothing more to lose.
I chose not to feel believing Vulcan was the worst of it.
I could never say the words.
(I'm scared. Help me not be.)
Pain. Anger. Confusion. Loneliness. Fear.
I know more about dying than I do living.
The Prime Directive is an excuse not to interfere with dying.
If there is one thing technology is good for, it is medicine.
Where there is life, there is.
I am tired of dying.
He is breathing.
I do not know what more there is.
I am breathing, he is breathing.
There is space above us and ground beneath us.
Somehow, life manages to spread in barren worlds.
I am tired of grieving.
I am tired of fear.
He must know why I will not let him die.
He must know.
Somehow, life moves onward.
Grief is more than mourning the loss of a love that was shared.
It is the desperate, helpless knowledge of losing a life that was shared.
Here, there is life.
On a five year mission, we will seek out new life and new civilizations.
We are told to go boldly, where none have gone before,
exploring strange new worlds.
For each turn of the evolutionary wheel, there is waste, and death, and suffering.
But here, there is life.
Jim-
My mother loved this poem:
"I can't speak for elsewhere
but here on Earth we've got a fair supply of everything.
Here we manufacture chairs and sorrows,
scissors, tenderness, transistors, violins,
teacups, dams, and quips.
"There may be more of everything elsewhere,
but for reasons unspecified they lack paintings,
picture tubes, pierogies, handkerchiefs for tears.
"Here we have countless places with vicinities.
You may take a liking to some,
give them pet names,
protect them from harm.
"There may be comparable places elsewhere,
but no one thinks they're beautiful.
"Like nowhere else, or almost nowhere,
you're given your own torso here,
equipped with the accessories required
for adding your own children to the rest.
Not to mention arms, legs, and astounded head.
"Ignorance works overtime here,
something is always being counted, compared, measured,
from which roots and conclusions are then drawn.
"I know, I know what you're thinking.
Nothing here can last,
since from and to time immemorial the elements hold sway.
But see, even the elements grow weary
and sometimes take extended breaks
before starting up again.
"And I know what you're thinking next.
Wars, wars, wars.
But there are pauses in between them too.
Attention!- people are evil.
At ease- people are good.
At attention wastelands are created.
At ease houses are constructed in the sweat of brows,
and quickly inhabited.
"Life on Earth is quite a bargain.
Dreams, for one, don't charge admission.
Illusions are costly only when lost.
The body has its own installment plan.
"And as an extra, added feature,
you spin on the planets' carousel for free,
and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard,
with times so dizzying
that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.
"Just take a closer look:
the table stands exactly where it stood,
the pieces of paper still lies where it was spread,
through the open window comes a breath of air,
the walls reveal no terrifying cracks
through which nowhere might extinguish you."
Jim-
You must know why I could not let you die.
Here, there is life.
Now, we are breathing.