Only Words Fly Poem by Frank Bana

Only words fly
And about two planes a day
In this debating-hall of race.
Realities remain on earth.
I wish my mother were the sea
So I would weep for the faraway
Troubled sea on the crushing Cape shore
But I think I was of desert born
On the steppes of the city.
Desert meets me everywhere
With her spacious inspiration
To make love and create.

I am not afraid for children
The world is younger here
And would not haul them down:
This flood of time is still.
Rains chill me bad
Sun warms me up and pierces me
Where I am cold and sad.
If I were not awaiting you –
Not expecting, not expecting –
This would not need to be.