Finite Flight
On the plane ride home from Boston to Roanoke
I ponder our brother’s dead body
flying as cargo from Houston to Logan in 2001
Folding my magazine to a page on green burial
I read that death is a spiritual birth
and that embalmment means draining the body of blood
and filling it with formaldehyde preservatives
Thinking about the fluid collecting in your body
I try to visualize its route and purpose
My tears pool together
There’s a lump in my throat
I worry I could have cancer too
I think about our 87-year old mother
the stiffness of her body
and her leg that drags and shakes
She talks to it and gives it commands
as if it was a child late for school
I think about the distance
between her chair and her bed
and how she navigates it over and over
The plane starts and stops in a line of traffic
A baby in the next seat cries
Airports are becoming more familiar
like weigh stations for preparing and debriefing
There will be other flights
but not so much for weddings
not so much for vacations now
The ocean doesn’t exist for my mother’s cat
It lives in a world three stories high
and thinks that going down into the cellar
is going outside
I remembered holding the door open for my mother
who pushed her walker like a ball and chain
and warned her cat firmly to “Stay!”
I secretly rooted for its freedom
but my hands stood in for my mother’s
when I squirted a spray of water at the cat
the way she directed me to
The plane gears up on the runway
There is no turning around now
It lifts and takes off as I read from my magazine
about maintaining relationships
with the dead
It says to cultivate a universal trust
because “life, no matter what
always has something to give us”
I don’t know what happens after death
or how planes defy gravity
My organs shift as the plane tilts and tips
Land is just a memory now
– Colleen Redman / The one that got away, aka didn’t get included in Packing a Suitcase for the Afterlife but probably should have / written in June 2012 / Poets United / Real Toads in Imaginary Gardens
June 18th, 2017 9:58 am
I really like this poem, Colleen. So many thoughts enter one’s mind as one waits for take-off. Thoughts of life, death, one’s mortality. I especially liked the images of your mother…I feel I know her a bit from your words. And indeed the distance between chair and bed can be a long one…and perhaps the only distance one navigates at a certain time of life!
June 18th, 2017 11:22 am
Yes, this one would have been perfect for the book. A wonderful read.
June 18th, 2017 12:33 pm
You have the ability to take your readers with you, which is a rare talent. There’s much to think about in this poem. A great read!
June 18th, 2017 12:37 pm
This is a wonderful poem, that has all those qualities that make it a relatable read… I know that the day will come when I will transport the ashes from both my mother and my aunt… i just wonder how to pack an urn…
June 18th, 2017 4:24 pm
This poem is so touching.. it moved me to tears as I thought along its lines.. and imagined myself in the same situation.. Yes it would have been perfect for the book. Beautifully penned.
June 18th, 2017 8:35 pm
Whoa! That is some fear and what a subject to be thinking about, which you so well crafted in your lines. I don’t think about anything I’m busy praying.
I now travel mostly by train and on one trip we were delayed to replace an engine. The conductor came by and said I have some good news and some bad news. First the bad news, we need a new engine. The good news is, we weren’t in the air. True story. 🙂
ZQ
June 18th, 2017 9:24 pm
This strikes a chord… we all examine death in so many different ways..the presence of the cat defines this poem. Beautifully done.
June 18th, 2017 9:51 pm
I love the conversational honesty of this poem as though you were talking just to me. It is beautiful, sad and so well written I feel like saying to you that you have won a prize as it is so good.
June 18th, 2017 10:40 pm
This poem goes through many layers and all touching squarely the emotions yet done brilliantly not pulled down by unnecessary sadness. Very well done Colleen!
Hank
June 19th, 2017 1:24 am
Intriguing poem, like part of a memoir.
June 20th, 2017 10:12 am
Exquisite. And cats, so ensconced in the NOW, never really know what is in their long-term best interest.
June 20th, 2017 11:23 am
Thank you Colleen for this look into our worlds of care-taking parents. Fraught with angst, love, and even a laugh or two about the cat:)
June 20th, 2017 12:38 pm
Colleen, this is just the most heart-warming and breaking poem. Your sense of timing is perfect. It is hard to write such pieces of narrative when they are so close to home. I applaud you.
June 21st, 2017 12:19 pm
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