Columbia
For every star, I could see.
I named them, after you and me.
I start to count, from one to seven.
And you all, passed heaven.
I could feel a tear, fell from my eye..
‘Cause I knew, that you said good bye.
And on your way back home, you lost the communication.
And we all could se, the falling star over the nation.
Farewells come floating, whispering in the wind.
It was only sixteen minutes, but you lost your mind.
We stood on the ground, watching you from afar.
You flew like a hero, but come back like a falling star.
@ Copy right
Linnea Johansson
We gaze at the stars
We gaze at the stars, and need to learn.
That everyone we send, won’t return.
We start to pray, and hope for the best.
But all we send, can be the next.
We speak from our hearts, and say good bye.
When the one we love, will fly up high.
Gods’ arms were opened, and he blessed them all.
But there was still few, who had to fall.
They looked in his eyes, and few manage to fly away.
But there was few of all, he wanted to stay.
We named these astronauts, with only one word.
And we send it to heaven, with one bird.
They all heard it, and send a message back to us.
They send it with the bird, which become gold dust.
We won’t forget what they did, and they are like a gem
And these sentences, is only for them.
We named them, Heroes.
@ Copy right
Linnea Johansson
Video
Sixteen Minutes from Home
Tribute to Columbia
Columbia
She was first among our shuttles, and we watched her from afar; She carried hope and knowledge on that flying fortnight run. Crewed by warriors and healers, and somethimes both in one.
Sixteen minutes out from home she faltered in her flight,
Lost communication, and broke up in beads of light. And my heart is soaked in sorrow as it slowly understands,
That Columbia, sky-rider, is fallen... With all hands.
As a people and a nation we have paid a proce to learn,
That in any exploration, there are some who don't return.
We are neither fools nor cowards, to be shaken now to know.
What out founders could have told us, twice a hundered years ago.
Pictures stark before us, spelled out the flyers' fates.
A hunderes miles of wreckage lay strewn across two states:
Scraps of twisted metal, a helmet gray with char,
Across the fields of mem'ry, a black and smokey scar.
Across a waking nation the shock and sorrow ran, From sunny Amarillo to the mourners claim their own; A nation grieves its heroes, but we do not grieve alone.
Columbia is fallen, yet her jouney isn't done; The sevrets of the universe are dear--and dearly won. In every generation we find some dreamers rise, And set their lives at hazard to give us all the skies.