Travelling Poem by RIC BASTASA

a travel is a metaphor of a journey
and a journey is always
what life is all about

arrivals and departures and i see it well
at airports
and well, so well, at pre-departures

then we move inside the plane and
the doors close and we are lifted to the skies

for hours you are beside the clouds
but you never have the courage to open the window
and touch each fine cotton beside you

crazy but sometimes i think that way
opening closed windows and think not of the
prohibitions and the consequencies,

there is so much silence up there and it is the mind
that does much of the talking and you listen
always for the reminders of the stewardess
and the captain telling you that

we are 30,000 feet above sea level and out there
you see Panay Island
we will be flying for one hour and a half
it is a fine day

and then the seat belt sign is on for the
turbulence but you do not mind

you look forward to an arrival and the another
opening of a door to a destination

touchdown, the plane lands perfectly as always
no plane crash, no headlines for the daily news

but i do not really think about these matters anymore
i am thinking of the silence. I am thinking about the mind that
keeps on talking. Data. Ideas. Sad memories.
Dead parents. Sick sibling. Flowers. Trees.
The sun brightly shining behind a
Thick Cumulus cloud.

the stewardess announces an arrival, fifteen minutes
earlier than scheduled. Fast plane. My thoughts unconsumed.

we step down. we take our bags. this journey never stops.