Here is a poem i wrote a bit ago while i was in my class.
I dedicate it to the families of the many lost on flight 447 via France.
Some Lost, Some Gained
There is a place where people go that we will never know.
447 calls “wheels up” as the traveling mother silences her playful children.
The pale man with dark brown curls is absorbed in the hieroglyphics on the paper.
The apprentice poet reads Borges and the girl seeking knowledge practices
Her voice, that of a young woman segmented by mechanics, is consistent and persistent of the same instructions you’ve heard over and over again.
Dreary for the next eleven hours and anxious for French ground, you never made it.
That planet lacks the best of us.
They hunger for our talents and our stories, our mysteries and our glories.
We have something they don’t have. We have hearts in our bodies.
They crave the knowledge of the politician and the wisdom of the business man.
They yearn for your poetic dreams and bleed green for the innocence of the kids.
They want your unconditional love and desires and
Your memories are left 7000 meters under water.
Your passions will become their passions as you succumb to fractions.
They have come for you, at full force with bright lights and robotic sounds,
shaped in unrecognizable forms.
They don’t listen to your weeping.
They don’t hurt you in the process and it seems you have fallen to hypnosis.
Without hesitation, like pirates in the Atlantic,
they take from us a treasure filled with our reasons.
You are so special, and indispensable that they require you for their existence.
They don’t feel what’s left broken or unspoken. They don’t feel our resistance.
And we are left to believe you’re needed in that unknown place.
All of you on 447, all two hundred and twenty-eight.