satellite | Teen Ink

satellite

June 25, 2022
By mariacangro14 GOLD, Staten Island, New York
mariacangro14 GOLD, Staten Island, New York
10 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
“There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald


she orbits her world like a satellite,

never quite able to be pulled

into its fortuitous center.

an idyllic childlike twinkle

once resided in her eyes. she is kind.

she is kind even when her smile

is taken advantage of.

for years, she roamed

fields of green and meadows

of yellow, longing for tomorrow,

for today was what she despised.

she strived to evoke love,

not chides, from those around her.

when she looks back on her life,

she feels ever so slightly removed

from the memories she knows

should be uniquely her own.

she was naive in those times,

naive in all her years

prior to him.

derealization became her priority,

for the man that she idolized

would be the very person

who immobilized her childhood.

paralyzed in the thwarting wake

of time, she became

a passive observer

of the friends who passed

her by, of the lies she used

as a disguise, of the body

that was supposedly hers.

did you know that you can violate

a satellite? you can throw it

face first into the knife, into your hands.

you can choke it until it’s convinced

that it is dead, then resurrect it

and violate it again.

you can violate a satellite

because she doesn’t know she’s

a satellite. she thinks she’s a body.

satellites carry the scars

of weather and time, they orbit

so they can stay inside their mind.

did you know that you can kill a satellite?

if you violate it enough, you will become

its parasite. you can drain it of blood

and of agency

until it is your clay to mold.

he killed her when he made her his own.

his to violate, his to kill, his to hold

a knife to throat.

you can kill a satellite,

or you can spare it,

so it continues to rely on you to stay alive.

to kill her would’ve been more humane.

she is a satellite because he drained

her of her childlike whimsy, of her smile,

and of the twinkle in her eyes—

but she is still kind.

she knows that kindness

never gravitates towards centers,

yet to live

at the periphery of her life

makes her a thankful little satellite.

to live with that deprived child

still inside of her, and to do right

by it each day with kindness

is what she vowed

when she escaped the knife.

and in spite of him,

she orbits. she breathes.

she smiles.


The author's comments:

In this poem, I wanted to write about the dissociation that follows a traumatic relationship that felt raw and real to me. I conjured up the metaphor of the satellite, because I like the imagery of being able to see, hear, and orbit your world without actually being inside of it. Ever since this relationship, I have felt like my life has been nothing more than me pacing around in repetitious circles without being tethered to anything. In other words, a satellite. This is definitely one of the more personal poems I’ve written, and I love it because of the optimistic ending. The nicest thing anyone has ever said to me is, “You are a strong person because of AND in spite of what you’ve been through.” So the idea of orbiting, breathing, and smiling in spite of this traumatic relationship, is a beautiful note for this satellite to end her poem on.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.