Departures
I’m drawn to airport departure halls,
to the optimism of leaving.
The suspension of here.
The promise of there.
I like the in-between feeling of transit,
the lightness that comes from
exchanging one clock for another.
And how someplace else makes you a child,
everything new again.
And the chance to leave baggage at home,
to quarantine turbulent emotions.
And the triage of broken dreams or numbed lives
into myriad flight paths,
New Life-bound,
relocating dislocated yearnings,
destination reinventing destiny.
And flight:
the release, however brief,
from reality’s gravity,
the world simplified at 30,000 ft. to
a spread of light-bathed cotton-candy clouds.
In motion, there is possibility.
In departure, future.
In passage, faith.
In altitude, a soaring-free.
In sky voyages, horizon-crossings.
In endings, beginnings.
In boarding, a looking-forward to _______.
I like hope taking off.
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