The Final Flight

I can’t remember whose idea it was

which one of us chose flight for our first

sojourn away    maybe the decision

derived from mutual desires to face our fears

head on or at least give it the old Facebook try

No parachutes were stored aboard for a hasty

escape   all exits signs were ignored

as we folded ourselves into the

safety of our seats at the front of

the plane     with my headphones

stuffed in my ears I could not hear

your deep sighs at once the audible cries

a last-ditch attempt to save who we’d been

unable and unwilling to accept defeat

We soldier on ignoring the piles of artillery

surrounding us. Bombs fall from the sky

lies construct walls too burdensome

to lug on the plane as our one piece of carryon

luggage  so much already in our memories

When the plane finally lands like starving

abandoned passengers we sift through debris

of our lives together unable to identify the pieces

so we leave the rubble behind for someone else

to look through searching for something

to salvage when everything’s already ruined

One day I know I’ll have blisters to

show for all the walking away I’ve done

but I’m tired of pretending I know how to fly

and I’m tired of pretending I wasn’t always alone

Peace & Love,

Rosalind