NOTES ON FLYING
The stray seagull flew low, five miles out at sea,
and he flew proud among a small flock of pigeons.
Looking up, I couldn’t tell if he was disoriented
or if he was comfortable not being on his own.
The birds’ insignificance and my own, engulfed my
mind there underneath a dazzling blue semi-sphere.
The ocean, beguiling in its tranquillity, beckoned
me to come stroll across its bridge of rippled glass.
As the ferry powered toward its island destination,
I wondered whether the seagull’s aerial adventure
Was a maiden voyage or part of normal routine
much like many of the passengers aboard this vessel.
The urge to go…where does that come from? Is it
An escape, or a homing in? A departure, or a return?
Does vertigo cause disorientation and influence the destination?
Or does disorientation merely cause the departure?
As I watched him, surrounded, I sensed our fellowship;
two souls gliding, carried, buoyed by other forces.
Aren’t all our journeys just part of a greater circle?
And we all still matter. Yet we all still don’t.
The seagull had not whispered any audible secrets,
But it had spoken to me just the same.
The island may isolate me but I would never be
alone as long as I looked upward and embraced life.
A collaborative Twitter poem by:
@MyVogonPoetry @Permabloom @Vivchook @afcoory @Jdubqca @Troublegummer