At the Air and Space Museum
At the air and space museum
my daughters and I learn
the death of a star can birth
a new solar system,
just as kernels of wheat fall
to the ground
and scatter their seeds.
As we walk the galleries
with our astronaut ice cream
we meet two space travelers—
Pershing II and Soviet Pioneer,
nearly banned by treaty
in the year of Eliza’s birth.
I hold her hand and hear Russian
spoken to my left.
A middle-aged couple in black
shearling hats look at me looking
at them and offer a tentative smile.
I answer in the same language.
And then I see the activists,
here and there,
who kept heart and mind open
to the terror
while others built shelters
of demonization and denial.
They lost years, their careers
and their freedom for peace.
Now they hear how Reagan
won the Cold War.
Will their sacrifices, their courage
ever be acknowledged?
Muttering to myself I follow
my skipping children to the
carousel on the National Mall
where locals weave through tourists
and wind tosses snowflakes
over the poles of furled flags.