The Astronaut

At night an astronaut speaks of the joy of watching the earth,
its soft and lovely blue
when you look at it from the moon.

In the morning the newsreader speaks of the war going on,
of borders full of darkness,
of darkness without borders,
of the red of blood that will never wash from the earth's hands.

And all day
I have nothing to do but keep away
from every road that might bring me closer to you.