Hail Columbia

The sky was blue.
A clearing which should not have been there,
an uninterrupted beauty that should not have been.
They had been there the day before,
giant gleaming metal birds
soaring through the heavens
but they were gone today.
The news was shouted forth,
the birds had fallen,
bursting in crazy angered fits
into the masses below.

Why, yesterday, did I not look up to see you
when I did not know that you would not return?

What kind of world is this, I cried, and no one answered.
I shuddered to think that those beloved birds would not return;
too scared to fly, they returned to solid ground forever
and sat, waiting, wondering when their skies would be safe again.

Hail Columbia! Nation's namesake,
awkward geometric dove
with white wings and black belly,
red, white, and blue borne upon your wing,
you rise where others fear to go,
giving birth to knowledge,
rising so high above us all
that a single peaceful globe was seen below,
carrying with you the names of men
and women flying not for their color
nor their creed
but what they could give
back to those who waited inappreciably below
for your return.

The sky is black.
A few shy stars peek out, but none which move
and cross the heavens as had our mighty dove the night before.
Giant gleaming metal bird,
soaring through the heavens,
where have you gone?
The news was shouted forth,
the bird had fallen,
crying out in tears so sad, so loud
they were felt by the world below.

Why, yesterday, did I not look up to see you
when I did not know that you would not return?

What kind of world is this, I cried, and no one answered.
I shudder to think that she, greatest of birds, would not return,
and we would sit, too scared to fly, on solid ground forever
and I sit, waiting, wondering when the skies will be safe again.

Oh, Columbia, mighty bird,
what awful fate had cast you down?
With your white wings and black belly,
red, white and blue borne upon your wing,
you rose where others feared to go.
Some who mourn you fear
you were felled by vengeance,
victim of wrath's long-reaching sword
but I know a sadder truth prevails,
that there are times
when birds have no more to give
old, and tired, collapsing back to that world below
from whence they came.

What kind of world is this, I cried again, but someone answered.
Voices, here and there, who cheer for that mighty bird's return,
who know we cannot sit, too scared to fly, on solid ground forever
but can only honor those who fell by daring to soar those skies again.

I look to the tomorrow when again I will see you,
Hail Columbia! I await with hope the day your soaring dream returns.

- Daniel Nazar