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Array
(
[sid] => 60446
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Without Arms to Walk Into (Part One)
[time] => 2004-08-17 13:29:36
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Without Arms To Walk Into Part One August 16, 2004 I'm going out of town, Just a couple of days. I should be home by the weekend, Is that okay? Can you drive me to the airport? I'm sorry for the timing, But I really need to get there, And you know how I hate flying. My family hasn't seen me, In two, no, three years. This week is the only time I can make it, Before my work interferes. Did you check my flight number? Good, it's on time. I hope there isn't traffic, And I have time to grab a snack. Did I tell you that I’ll miss you? I love you, see you when I get back. The airport was crowded, Men in suits, families in groups, And people bustling by. Signs pointing here, pointing there, Then a map of where to go. Gate 17, flight 263, through a tunnel, on the plane. I can sit, watch the people, Order champagne, or complain. They need a pillow, how about that coffee? I wish they could agree, Just once sit content, and not leap to the next worry. Down the runway, into the sky, Where I can look down and say goodbye. The buildings growing faint, the fields in squares. The seatbelt light has gone off, we're high in the air, The aisle gets busy, I lean back in my chair. My eyes are closing, so fast, so slow. The voices turn to mumbles, the lights begin to fade, Into my dreams, I begin to wade. The grinding wakes me first, The shrieks of fear brings me out. From my dream I am back, on the plane, Going down. Panic washes through me, What do I do? The masks have already fallen, The pilot’s voice is barking through. "Use your seat as a flotation device, We’re going to hit the sea. Nobody panic, stay as calm as you can be." The stewardess is running, Up and down the aisle. What happened to her perfect, confident smile? My thoughts are backing up, A wreck in my mind. How could this be happening, I’m only twenty-nine. My husband, does he know? Of course not, what can I do? I need to tell him what is happening, I need to get through. My window is clear, I can see the water near. A mass of black, how can we make it alive? I wonder what will happen, How many will survive? The woman sitting near me, She’s crying in her palms, A man behind me, Whispering a prayer. And here I sit silent, Drowning in my fear. The water is all that I can see, Filling my view of what will become of me. "Stay in your seats! Nobody get up!" In my hand I can feel, the digging in my palms, Clenched to snap, the broken plastic cup. "Prepare for the impact, hold onto your chairs!" I can’t hold on to anything, Nothing in my mind, but that I am scared. "Ten seconds!" Holding tight. Lack of light. Shattered window. Water through. Salty, cold, mass of blue. No more screaming, no more sound, No more lights, and no more ground. In the ocean, our big plane, Two hundred people, probably slain. *if you want to know what happens, read part two... ~Calista* [comments] => 1 [counter] => 282 [topic] => 39 [informant] => Calista [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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