Flying Home
I am awake,
Lying on immaculate white bed,
Staring at solemn stars shining
In the pitch black night in my darkest memory.
I have been awake,
For hours, days, months, years,
So long that I have failed to keep count.
How long? How long?
The crows have croaked.
Opening my mouth, trying
Trying to reply, but sand…
Oh, the treacherous sand,
Rushing into my mouth,
Strangling, suffocating, and choking me.
I heard the cackling laughter of the crow,
Resonating, echoing in the darkness.
Squeezing my eyes shut,
Bracing myself for the impact.
I feel the heat and hear the engine hum,
And Smack! A slap on the cheek.
I am back.