flying – sethlewis.ie

Layover At Stansted (a poem)

I hear English and Italian
And (I think)
a bit of French
As I’m sitting (one more stranger)
In the airport
On a bench
This assembly
Of the transient
People moving (yet we’re still)
Thrown together
For a moment
With a layover to fill
This collection
Of humanity—
The tired
Sad
Excited
Proves that
Being in proximity
Is not the same at all
As being in community

I’m glad I’m going home

Airplanes

I spent a large portion of the last couple of days in airports and airplanes, and it’s always amazing to me to think of—and participate in—humanity’s (relatively) new ability to fly. Still, no matter how fast we can get there, the reality is that we can only ever be in one place or another, never both. That’s what this poem is about: