Posts Tagged ‘Written on a plane

19
Feb
11

I miss her

I miss her

Tiny fingers

Curled around mine

And the sounds

Of her

Growing

And changing

As she

Expands

Into the world

That has been

Waiting

For her

To arrive.

Across the globe,

With her mother,

Visiting family

And a country

That is hers

By birth

And passport.

The distance

Has been

Surreal

And difficult

To adjust to-

Even technology

Has failed

To close the gap

And seal the wound

Caused by the miles.

In a few more

Weeks

I will

Hold her

And her mother

In my arms

Once more.

Until then

I continue

To look at her

Pictures

Again and again-

Sometimes

With a smile

And sometimes

With a tear.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 16, 2011

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23
Jan
11

Movement to somewhere else

Muffled

Tippety-taps

Of laptop keyboards

Drift through

The cabin noise

And my pressurized ears.

My exit row seat

Does not “recline”

So my attempts

At rest

Are held hostage

By the fully upright

Position

And the occasional

Impact

Of the beverage cart

Or elbow

Of wobbly passengers.

Bleary eyes

And weary faces

Stare blankly ahead

Or into computer screens.

Crumpled suits

And dress shirts

With coffee stains

Blend into the enclosed scenery.

Soldiers,

Returning and departing,

Sit uncomfortably

In their uniforms-

Some nervously

Imagining

“Over there”.

Young mothers with children

Try to distract

Tired babies

With popping ears

And keep them

From crying.

As our destination

Approaches,

The sound of zippers

Opening

Fills the air

As personal belongings

Are once again

Stowed,

In preparation for landing.

Trash is collected,

Seatbacks returned

To upright positions

And tray tables

Are locked closed

Once more.

We’ll be there

Soon

And the overhead bins

Will pop open

As bags are retrieved

For the next phase

Of our movement

To somewhere else.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 19, 2011

23
Jan
11

Once again without me

My wife

And infant daughter

Are

Half a world

Away,

In Taiwan

With family.

My older daughter

Is at home

With her mother,

Gliding

Through her daily routine.

And I am,

Once again,

Strapped into my seat,

With my seatbelt

Low and tight

Across my waist

Several thousand feet

Above the ground

And between

Destinations.

Thoughts fly

Between worlds

And worries,

As I settle into

The impermanent

And the transitory.

Soon I’ll be

Shaking hands

And forgetting names

Of people

I’ll never see again,

While the ones filling my thoughts

Go about their day

Once again

Without me.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 19, 2011

29
Nov
10

The familiar sleepwalk

Once again

Sealed in a plane

At 30,00 feet

Above the earth,

Leaving my family

As I travel

For work.

The familiar

Sleepwalk

Through the early morning

Airport obstacle course,

Filled with

The sleeping

And partially awake,

As we all

Lurched

To our gates

And waiting aircraft.

Each of us

Shuffling

Or running

To a place

Beyond

The terminal

And gates.

In just a few

More days

I’ll repeat

The entire process,

But with a late night

Arrival

At home

And a quiet

Entry

Back into

My sleeping

Family’s lives

And my

Warm and welcoming

Bed.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 29, 2010

29
Nov
10

Quilting

The rolling

Quilt

Patchwork

Of farmland

Rolls across

Featureless

Hills and valleys,

Dotted

With mirrored

Spots

And ribbons

From rivers,

Ponds and lakes,

Like a jade

And tan

Tapestry

Woven and stitched

Together

By unseen

Giant hands

And left

Alone

And wrinkled

Across the endless

Land.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 29, 2010

05
Mar
10

I am utterly lost in her

Without enough

Distraction

My mind turns

To her

And the feel

Of her

Skin

Beneath my

Fingertips,

Or the taste

Of her

On my

Lips and tongue.

When the rest

Of the world

Drops away,

She returns-

At first

Like a shadow,

But then growing

Back into

A vivid haunting

Of the senses.

Her gentle perfume,

The smoothness of her

Skin,

The softness of her

Hair,

And the taste of her

Lips pressed to mine-

No less real

In memory

As they are

In reality.

Until the return

Of other thoughts,

I am utterly lost

In her.

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 3, 2010

05
Mar
10

Though I can not sleep, I dream

Almost

Without fail,

Upon reaching cruising altitude,

My thoughts turn-

Or return-

To the lives below

That are woven

Into mine

And mine

Into theirs.

Somewhere

In the shapeless darkness

Unfolding below,

My loves live and breathe,

Going about their routines-

My wife is likely

Curled up on the couch,

Resting

Before driving to the airport

To collect me,

And my daughter-

The one already

In this world-

Is either slowly

Eating her dinner

Or taking a bath

Before bed

In her mother’s home.

Swimming

In her mother’s womb,

My unborn daughter

Is most probably

Kicking my wife’s ribs

And preventing her

From real rest.

Another

Very long day

Of airports

And planes

Is creeping

To an end

At 27,000 feet.

Though I can not

Sleep,

I dream of them

And look forward

To once again being

With them

And dreaming

With my eyes closed

In my own bed.

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 3, 2010




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