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Seventy-three seconds
One thought, igniting the dream,
Seven bold souls, steady as they seem.
Ten missions past, Challenger soared,
Twenty-five flights, the program roared.
Tick-tick.
A countdown clear.
The world leans close.
The clock draws near.
Thirty-six degrees—a frozen doubt.
A seal strained tight; the gas leaks out.
Ignition. Roar. Climb. Silence screams.
A nation watches shattered dreams.
Seventy-three seconds, sky turned to flame,
History echoes their hallowed names.
At 5:00 PM, the voice of command,
A president speaks to a grieving land:
“The crew of the Challenger honored us all.
They slipped the surly bonds of Earth to touch the face of God.”
32 months, grounded hope rebuilt.
A frozen morning, a lasting guilt.
Tick-tick.
The seconds mourn.
We remember still
That frozen dawn.
Copyright ©
Joel Hawksley
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