I fit into a shell
whose size
lays in the palm
of your hand

I curl my body so it’s
matching the hollowed spiral
and is pressing gently against
the cool, smooth barriers

The noises are muffled
and the air inside here
is how I imagine it feels
to fly through the clouds.

They were young starry-eyed, yet too soon so many had to die.
Brave to a fault with wanderlust of youth, no challenge spurned however seemingly uncouth.
In azure blue skies with only clouds as friends, they sought their prey through war's myopic lens.
No quarter given and none spared by their foes, incandescent bullets superseding schoolyard blows.
Skill and verve no match for destiny's roulette, to survive another day an all too losing bet.
Still they flew and fought with all their might, for love of country protecting it from blight.
Summoned by that bell with its strident chilling tones, pervading every pore of their worn and tired bones.
Verve and duty each relying on the other, no place to hide but raw courage as their cover.
For all those boys that fast turned into men, saving our isles from sweeping plain to gleaming glen,
We shall remember you forever in our lore, the few that gave so much and often so much more.

𝘖𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦?
𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴,
𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦?
𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥
𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?
𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩
𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦,
𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳,
𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥

𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳,
𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰?
𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵
𝘍𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶

"Will you leave me then?"
The leaves blew North

"After you fly?"
"After your documents?"
"After our children?"
"After my youth?"
"After my life?"
The leaves flickered in a circle

"When will it be?"
They quickened, spinning, filling the atmospheric pressure

"Please tell me when you do"
A hurricane ceaselessly swallowing all the forests surrounding its vision, carried the world with it, and the sun

FLYING

Step through the door of sky
full of curiosity, seeking
something precious beyond earth,
an ephemeral world of amazement.

The wind’s voice shouts a warning--
you’re absent from reality,
for world is a mix of weight
and lightness for wings
useless in one atmosphere
are alive in another.

Take the humming bird,
nature’s helicopter,
or the crane, fragile
on the gound yet
infallible energy
in the air, or the
butterfly filling earth
and sky with colored gloss.

When the great, joyful recklessness
of flying returns to celebration
of the world, something of the wild,
perfect air remains, if just for one
moment.

afraid to jump
because of the possibility that I will fall
but God knows
I was born to fly