Monday, May 30, 2011

We, The Living



Impatience is in all of us in the business of hope, tugging her kit closer.

I thought, Don't go, but she'd ramped, the plane lifted-off for an ill-at-ease, long airflight to a land less comfortable yet

filled with -- pick one -- deep and ancient blood feud, dengue, rice blight, bird flu, tyranny


You say good morning to the Colonel and they strike you silly

at what used to be Vocation.  But it's unsure, pretty surely not, a voice that's calling you

You call yourself, you're facing yourself, you've faced yourself

And I turn past the tourist toys and scanners, the Starbucks, escalators, skybridge, out through Departures into the concrete lot, unlock my Toyota with a beep, watch out for cars, and wend my way to home.


.

6 comments:

  1. heartfelt words.
    beautiful demonstration of sad facts.
    cheers.
    a job well done.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Jingle,

    I read your 'love' all at once -- 3 replies!

    The 'big world' has been in my consciousness for -- 50? -- years. And I find it, still, very, very big.

    TFool

    ReplyDelete
  3. OR,

    I weep and gush at movies, but hold myself back at reports that are so real as to be meaningful-in-the-flesh.

    Not sure what that makes me, but my imagination reaches out to that actual world sometimes, not with any programmatic assurance, but with a sense of pity.

    How special are those people who give.

    TFool

    ReplyDelete
  4. loved the opening line.. nice writing :)

    ReplyDelete