Sunday, March 20, 2011

Not Light

A point of light
moving across the sky
soundlessly, smoothly
reminds me of us
on this planet
so endlessly inventive of ways to disagree
to hurt and to kill.
But from somwhere far off we will be that
shining moving dot with no sign of the turmoil
no sense of the tragedy.
And this was what I saw too.
Was the pilot struggling
facing her final minutes?
Her unlived life bleeding away
like the air from the wings.
The slow cold water of destruction in her gut.
Numbing her down to complete honesty,
so that there is nothing left
but goodbye.
As we are saying inside
our point of light.

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