A View from the Middle
I hope I never go blind
because I’d miss the sight
of being halfway between Heaven and Earth
when the plane first starts to descend,
breaking through the clouds.
I’d miss the first vestiges of civilization below,
like ancient ruins
longing to be uncovered
as we inch closer and closer toward land.
I’d miss the first signs of life,
the trail left by a lonely boat
dragging down a lake,
or the perfect symmetry of corn rows,
quietly carving out a landscape.
I’d no longer marvel at the expectancy
or the anxiety-tinged desire
of new experiences waiting to happen.
I wonder if I’d still smile,
or if I’d even remember to question,
if this is the road spirits take
as they journey toward love-laced wombs.