Passengers

another favorite poem, this one by Billy Collins.

Poetry is so subjective to taste, as much (or more so even), than music. The poems I post here are simply the ones that when I first read them I recognized the feeling behind the words. Does that make sense? Well. This is exactly the type of thoughts I have each time I board…

Passengers

At the gate, I sit in a row of blue seats
with the possible company of my death,
this sprawling miscellany of people—
carry-on bags and paperbacks—
that could be gathered in a flash
into a band of pilgrims on the last open road.
Not that I think
if our plane crumpled into a mountain
we would all ascend together,
holding hands like a ring of skydivers,
into a sudden gasp of brightness,
or that there would be some common place
for us to reunite to jubilize the moment,
some spaceless, pillarless Greece
where we could, at the count of three,
toss our ashes into the sunny air.
It’s just that the way that man has his briefcase
so carefully arranged,
the way that girl is cooling her tea,
and the flow of the comb that woman
passes through her daughter’s hair …
and when you consider the altitude,
the secret parts of the engines,
and all the hard water and the deep canyons below …
well, I just think it would be good if one of us
maybe stood up and said a few words,
or, so as not to involve the police,
at least quietly wrote something down.

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About sparrowjourney

Christian homeschooling mom to three boys, married to my best friend, John, for over 20 years. I love gardening without gloves, learning history with my kids, cooking with lots of butter, serving others, great books, rich coffee, studying the Bible, camping outdoors, scrapbooking, vintage home decor, the smell of rain and cut grass, authentic people, poetry, laughing until your sides hurt, and babies. oh and black licorice is pretty awesome.
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One Response to Passengers

  1. Faye says:

    I chuckled at this poem…I am not the only one who has had these thoughts. I size up the people around me, determining who might be able to help in time of need and who might not. Then, I hope I get to sit by the ones who might help in time of need, because when I am flying the thought of falling through the air comes to mind about 60 times a minute.

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