My Santiago

Flight Paths

For years I have observed their comings and goings from my perspective. Our multiple destinations, Our common journeys on jet-winged birds, In the evenings, mornings and afternoons, In the fine morning mist and the descending gloom of a gripping wet winter’s day.

I have sat, perched – in – waiting For calls to board, and looked beyond invisible faces People I need not know.

Too brief a time spent for real conversation, We sit across each other in lounges, Bent over texts -thumbs busily linking hearts – to those distant, Yet much closer than these. Or gaze straight ahead as we sit close, cramped and congested on board, Feigning disinterest,

And happy in perfect anonymity we are granted the grace of a time in between!

Between destinations, Neither here nor there, Neither to nor fro,

Neither farewelled nor greeted, Neither saddened nor happy! No address to find,

Taxi to catch, Bag to locate, Life to resume! Just stasis and perfectly Alone.

And, Often, in this place of impermanence, Transient and in – transit, - freed for a brief lull -

I have pondered what it means? These flight paths to nowhere and back again? Our need to meet, to gather, to love, To endear, to harvest, to grow accustomed to, To be safe!