Saturday, May 01, 2010

Waiting on the Runway

Your death grounded me,
Left me flightless, stuck,
Couldn't get out, had to stay here
Where the weather was unpredictable, rough.

I sat on the runway
Couldn't take off for years.

Even when it started to clear up,
I found I had forgotten how
To start my engine.
Not ready to fly, admittedly,
I examined the weeds
Along the cracked, cold, concrete.
I searched the sky for a sign,
Tripped, stumbled, lived in
The quiet, the silence
That fell when you disappeared.

Clearing, clearing.
There are several planes in front of me still,
A back up.
It feels like it will never be my turn
To lift off,
But I can see it coming.
It's in front of me now.