'Satellite of Love' by Philip Charter

Lift Off

We blasted off that night on our joint mission, up through layers of decreasing resistance, through rarified air, away from the turbulence of our lives, and at that time, we burned white-hot until the payload jettisoned and we drifted into the blissful tranquility of space, staring back in wonder, two satellites guided by each other’s blips and bleeps.

Orbit

As we travelled around and around, the years passing, we fell into a pattern of signals and silences, with burning desire transformed into morning briefings, precision operations, and the occasional recorrective thrust, and like this we circled, pretending that our steady progress was as exciting as the initial countdown, and in our orbit, we looked down on others, wondering if they could reach us without help, but whereas I stepped in with wayfinding pointers, you found flaws and imperfections, and the beauty we saw diverged, with me drawn back towards to the launchsite, and you slowly drifting off line, our bond loosening as every day you asked me to reach further into the darkness, to bridge a gap neither of us could compute.

Lost Signal

When I crashed to Earth, I thought I heard your voice still guiding me, directing left or right, away from catastrophic failure, merging or exiting, folding back on myself like a twisted used-up tin can, recalculating past behaviours, praying for those words ‘you have reached your destination’, and finally arriving there, my scorched feet crunching the driveway shingle only to find that my destination was no longer a home because you had left years ago, and your velocity sped you far away, into eternity, your voice weakening and cutting out, before silence washed over... and I learned to navigate on my own.