Brooding

The nearest star still light years away
with nothing but empty space in sight
her stranded ship was cold and gray
succumbing to the endless night,
she'd never been one to piously pray
or fumble about in frivolous fright--
a faulty reactor had sealed her fate
so she sat down to calmly wait.

A captain will grieve a vessel's demise
surrendering their identity,
and a mother will mourn the child that dies,
a part of themselves that can never be,
but living is always a compromise
requiring strength to accept misery
by standing stalwart at the helm
as darkness tries to overwhelm.

When artificial gravity failed
she quietly floated like a cloud,
recycled air had long since staled
and with her final breath she vowed
to guard her nest as sleep prevailed,
she'd always been immensely proud
but it was truly more than that
a piece of herself was in the vat.