The Spacesuit

A poem

For some unknown reason, I just couldn’t see 
how hard climbing into a spacesuit would actually be. 
But after managing both legs, and a singular arm, 
my struggle began causing some considerable alarm. 

The half of me in the suit made movement so limited, 
It seemed impossible to cram my mortal self into it. 
I had to think logically, find an alternative way.
So I ended up bringing my head, knees and elbows into play.

Once finally inside, I was invaded by darkness,
the visor snuffing out light with such brutal harshness 
that I could see and hear nothing, no outside communication.
This was total. An all encompassing isolation.

And here in this situation I found myself in, 
struggling without visual or audible perception, 
I discovered something much bigger than this.
Something so profound that it made me feel sick.

I started to discern the things I was made of
muscles spasming, tensing, relaxing.
Veins at the backs of my eyes, unfamiliar vibrations, 
ebbing and flowing blood, electrical pulsations, 

In short I was experiencing my own fleshy whole,
my corporeal body together, within my control. 
Then suddenly the one thing I just couldn’t see,
became the only thing of interest to me.

The mechanism of my understanding of all of this. 

Where were the workings of my brain, its feelings?
Sounds of it turning information into cognitive meaning?
Everything apart from this was so clear to me now. 
My place and who I was in the physical world.

That this was not all there is, was clear as can be
And that the only logical reason that I could perceive 
was consciousness was not a part, but wholly external 
to this fatty, bloody, fragile, organic vessel.

Photo: The Thinker by Joseph Klibansky. Amsterdam, 2025. Nikon z8