Searching for MH370

In Memory of Flight MH-370














The cockpit dashboard blinks 

A thousand eyes

Each dial a finger

Spinning him somewhere 

Far beyond the star-rimmed sky

His head in a twist

Which way should he turn?

The continents whirl a dervish dance 

The roar of the engine becomes

A soft insect bite on his ear

He slips a hand inside his pocket

And pulls out a feather

Puckered, grey-blue 

Tender like an early-morning kiss

He presses the feather against his cheek

And the day comes back

The wounded bird 

From a long-ago childhood

He’d knelt by the roadside 

Knees powdered in dust

Deaf to his mother’s impatient tugging hand

Carefully he’d plucked the single drooping feather

His stare never leaving the bird’s stone-hard eye

That even then foretold his death

More Poetry

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