Space Station by Shannon Kernaghan

You don’t wake up certain or ready or healed or healthy.  You peek through a telescope and discover life beyond your own. Crack the space station door by degrees,  not all at once, and hear from those same friends  who took two steps back  realize that every story has a dark side, that it was less you, more them, as their spectrum fast-cools from burgundy to blue. A little more, open the door wider every day  to gingerly test the atmosphere with a toe, detect the rising of a red-hot sun  where earlier clouds weighed you down  and suddenly ta-daa! Shift solid to gas your shoulders loosen you sleep peacefully you’re ready to untether.