Not everyone is afraid of flying, but those who are will be able to relate to this poem:

I have no wings, but planes do.
So white, but not poetic.
So straight, but not trustworthy.
Inside the capsule belly I subdue
The thoughts that seem prophetic –
A fear so grave among the skies so frothy.

As if someone proclaimed that
I won’t have more than a hundred
Pulse beatings to live to the end,
In haste to defy such a threat,
My heart must’ve frantically thundered
A thousand beats off-hand.

I have no relief for the itch of my knees.
Stiff muscles are bending my spine.
Like pieces of magnets, my bones
Are clasping as one in a desperate squeeze.
My nerves straighten up in a twine.
My thoughts are in clamorous tones.

I close my eyes and imagine the news
With letters across: “Plane Crash!”
The image of scattered debris…
My mind has sparkled and blown a fuse;
My heart has been burning to ash
In pain for those who care for me.

Flash back and envision the ruinous hit,
And watch with those panicky eyes
The metal and plastic fold up onto me.
The crumpling pit.
The harrowing cries,
Like weeps of a howling banshee.

And do feel a hit and open my eyes…
Chase after the markings and lights,
And feeling the friction – the steady runway –
Unfasten the belt from around my thighs,
As if having won tens of deadliest fights
And carried my life away.

(The photo above is a shot from my plane window on a trip from Madrid to Zurich)

What about you, readers? How do you feel about flying? If not the planes, than what other things give you a fright? How do you cope with it? I would appreciate any insights in your comments!


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