Long Haul

Whilst back to creativity and the latest poetry zoom with Sara-Jane Arbury, I still hadn't shaken off my trip when we were asked to write a poem about the passing of time.

(c) Eva Darron  (Unsplash)

Long Haul

The seatbelt sign

flickers as all around

settle into their seats. 

The clunking sound of

metal into metal.

Searching the inflight

entertainment for something

to while away the hours. 

Various announcements. 

No smoking, no vaping, no

lying on the floor.

No children’s blow up beds.

The meal is served.  Saving the planet

with bamboo knives and forks. 

But drinks in single use plastic cups.

Darkness falls.  The lights turned low

apart from the flickering

of numerous seatback screens. 

The lady across the aisle

seems to be watching the screen

of the person sitting in front of me.

Why?

After three films I try to sleep,

jealous of those who snore, softly,

open-mouthed for hours.  I manage

twenty minutes.

I walk up one aisle and down

the other, past the sleeping beauties

and the shining screens,

shadow actors playing out

their silent scenes.

Lights, action, breakfast.

Of course it could be lunchtime.

It must be somewhere in the world.

But after seven time zones

who knows what time it is.

The cabin crew decree it’s breakfast time,

although spinach and fetta slice

doesn’t sound like breakfast to me.

Slowly the chattering of passengers rises

almost drowning out the loud

thud

that signals

wheels down.

The crew sit down, no longer moving

through the cabin.  Strapped in,

leaning back, as

the ground rushes up to meet us.

The engines howl

as they are thrust into reverse.

The plane lands awkwardly veering

slightly left and right.

Will there be enough runway?

Sighs of relief as the plane comes

to a standstill.  Seatbelt sign off.

A rush to reach bags stowed

in overhead lockers.  Why do we do that? 

It takes so long for steps

and collecting cases in baggage reclaim.

But after seventeen hours trapped

in a metal tube, we want to escape

and finally reach our destination.

Thanks for joining me today
Bernice