Between The Cebu-Bacolod Skyways Poem by RIC BASTASA

i like the window
this is where i usually sit on my plane rides
upon the mountains below
the clouds are sleeping as they move
like fish
they say sleep
and yet flow with the movement of the waves
and then
discover
as one wakes up that this is no longer
the same place
but another set of mountains
fencing a new city
your destination
at night when you arrive there
as the plane makes its
touchdown
you want to find another feeling
like you are another driftwood
transported anew
to another bank of the river

the feeling is like an old ancestral house
you remember
the past like all those clouds that you pass
by in different shapes
back-grounded by a shift of orange
and yellow lights
until something clears them out
blinded
or you become a
blank piece of paper
searching for
new words, and yet, and this is sad,
it is the same
nothing's changed
what you want not to meet anymore
is there
waiting for you
and you forge a smile
yet no matter what it is as raw as
meat with blood still
dripping on the side

time does not subside the
pain
there is no automatic cure
even your
escape to other places of
your mind
your heart will always
tell the truth to you
in fact....