Hopes and Prayers - Dec 22 2022

 

Hopes and Prayers

Dec 22 2022

It's not your life flashing before your eyes,

not an autobiographical recounting.

It's more the texture of your life

so far.

Thoughts of those left behind

with no final good-bye.

The triumphs and regrets

and hopes unmet.

The love you gave, and were given,

or weren't ready to accept.

So as I sat

seat uptight, table-tray secured

white-knuckling the landing,

pulse racing

and ramrod straight,

  —   the plane

shaking and rattling,

dropping sharply,

and speeding blind

through pea soup fog  —

I found a distracting illusion of calm

in my powerlessness.

Surrendering

to forces greater than me.

And after the reassuring sight

too close to touching down

of lights through the mist.

After hitting hard and bouncing,

reverse thrusters powering,

and the usual leisurely taxi

until we bumped to a stop,

the banality was striking.

All the prayers

resolutions

and promises

in seconds, forgotten,

heartbeats normalized

hands unclenched.

Our relief, fleeting

the routine, surreal

as the adrenaline emptied out.

The whining engines cut.

Impatient passengers lining up

and rummaging through the overhead.

The bored attendant

dutifully manning the exit,

flashing her smile

as if she meant it

in the blessedly cool air.

We move on,

the anxious flyers

the hardened regulars.

Jostling at the carousel

as the luggage tumbles down

one piece at a time,

only hoping and praying

that ours hadn't been lost.