By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

NOVEMBER 12, after midnight
that airplane, the one that just passed by
with a steady sound, brings me back to the day

of the storm
everything just flew on the street
with the wild howling of the wind
but there was this airplane, moving steadily
quietly, to its destination
detached from the reality on the ground
piercing through the dark clouds
like it did the night before
and the night before that
when the nights were clearer
and calmer, and I would stare at the moon
or at objects that behave like stars
absorbed in my own reality
detached from the reality of others

everything is so quiet tonight
except for the roar of another airplane,
and by the sound of it, flying lower than the first one
two, three, four sips of coffee, I sit in total silence
wondering how fast the days have rolled by,
and how lives had been driven by the madness
and the tragic and the comical
on the fifth sip, the sound of another plane flying
I am tempted, should I go out?
so unusual to hear them in the dead of the night
when at this time, in the last few months
the silence is broken by sirens on the road
rushing to pick up those who had forgotten to breathe
muting all detectible vibrations,
echoes and whispers of ghosts
in transit to their destinations

I wonder, what is going on in that vast space
far beyond the routes of airplanes
into that deep darkness where the moon cohabits
with the elements, and changes the rhythm of the tides?

should I go out?
after all, today, there is no storm
and the silence is broken
only by the beating of my heart

Share your Comments or Reactions

comments

Powered by Facebook Comments