matters of an intergalactic nature

at seventeen, I announced my plans to visit a different solar system;
"you're not going there!" scoffed a neighbour.
"yes, I am - I'm going in two weeks."

my visit went very well;
at eighteen, I moved to that solar system.

as a newcomer, I found myself in discussions about intergalactic matters.
I would comment on how I liked the new solar system and felt at home;
"we're not perfect," said one resident, "we have problems too."
"I know," I responded, "but the major problems in the solar system I came from
either don't exist here or are much less significant."

by twenty-one, I had traversed sixteen different solar systems,
each solar system had flaws, each one had strengths,
but only one felt like home - the solar system I had visited at seventeen;
at twenty-two, I decided to return there to live permanently.
​
on a visit to my original solar system to tie up loose ends,
I found myself in discussions about intergalactic matters:
"why move to that solar system?" scoffed a neighbour. "think of all you'll be giving up!
everything this solar system has that they don't!"
"well, I feel safe there," I replied.
"and how's it not safe here?"
"the Illness."
"oh, come on! the Illness is everywhere!" and the neighbour walked away.

in the sixteen solar systems I've travelled through,
the Illness is essential to only one,
​the one I came from.
the Illness was invited to the solar system moments after it began - 
and it has not left yet.

the Illness kills families in their homes, children in their schools, infants in strollers,
claims lives of concertgoers, leaders, communities gathering in reflection.
the Illness lies to the poor, the power-hungry,
the rich, the sad, the entitled, the joyful.

at fifteen, I attended the funeral of Ryan,
the second of my classmates
​to be murdered by the Illness.

so, why isn't the solar system I came from safe?

the unhindered rising death toll the Illness is responsible for,
to which the solar system residents and leaders
have grown indifferent,
silent,
because:
"it's just another funeral."

I don't want to live in a perfect solar system.
but, I like living.

I want to live in a solar system
that takes action to prevent the Illness
and does not consider it essential.

I want a solar system that,
after a death it could not prevent,
cries, wails, grieves -
"damn! another funeral!"
"we've still got work to do!"
"we will implement change to protect people better!"

I don't want to live in a perfect solar system.
but I want to live somewhere
that knows progress can still be made.
​where residents say to newcomers:
"we're not perfect. we have problems too."

over a decade later, I still live in the solar system I visited at seventeen,
it has its flaws, it has its strengths,
and it still feels like home.

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{other pieces on gun violence}

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