of planes and pasts

I wake to another migraine
they come like morning these
days as i combine two of the
elements that haunt me from a
childhood i fought to keep from
my own children…my demons:
moving and flying away alone
i fly away on Sunday in the middle of a move
but add to the mix my Dad dying
my little brother not anything little
any more is flying today and we
reminisce of our boarding school
past flying as little children on the
WWII surplus DC-3’s that were the
main transportation of our Brazilian
past the time my sister and i were
in the cockpit with the pilots when
they could not get the landing gear
down, how my father cried tears
when he put us on the rickety plane
by ourselves and we lost most of
our sense of permanent family
left to vacations and furloughs
to call home we return this week
from Florida, Virginia and Colorado
back to our roots before Brazil before
the war and the missionary zeal
back to the love of family to the
roots that made us strong enough
to endure the leavings, the losses
the opening of new worlds that made
us citizens of the Universe,
back to singing hymns
at the bedside of our loved ones
flying, circling, coming home to a strange land

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