Protecting Two Worlds-

Before the rocket leaves the ground,
the suited teams go round and round,
scrubbing every bolt and seam,
because the smallest passenger may seem
too tiny to be any threat,
yet be the one we’d most regret.
“Why clean it all? Space is bare!”
the curious girl asks, standing there.
But tardigrades, eight-legged and small,
can shrug off cold, dryness, and radiation’s call.
They thrive where most of life would fail,
and hitch a ride on any trail.
Forward lies the risk we send:
Earth’s microbes, on a world we’d tend
to study in its pristine state.
Contaminate it, and it’s too late
to know if what we found was there,
or something that we carried, unaware.
Backward is the risk we bring:
a sample home, a hidden thing.
Behind the quarantine’s locked door,
the suited hands guard Earth once more.
Unknown means no cure, no defense,
no immunity, no recompense.
So here’s the truth in the darkest sky:
the odds are low, but the stakes run high.
One slip could be irreversible,
one lapse, a loss unbearable.
Two worlds to guard, two worlds to keep,
the promise we make before we leap.