Grounded Pilot Poem by Gert Strydom

With eyes drawn into thin lines
against the bright light of the sky
he watches fighter jets
becoming airborne,
leaving earth with billowing engines,
red flaming tails.

The wings on his chest are now fading
just as the experience of becoming one
with the sky, drifting on the wind
like the knowledge of flying
which is also fading with time.

Every time a fighter goes thundering
up into the sky
he feels the exhilaration, relives the moment
where man becomes a flying thing
and there's longing shining
in pale blue eyes.