Three Parts of an Airplane

An airplane:

Father, Son, Holy Spirit.

Two propellers,

one head,

two wings,

one tail:

so you can fly.

Anyone can fly.

Lord, help me fly.

Father lead on

as I see the clouds,

the storms,

the journey ahead—

as I coast…

coast

sun in my sight.

when nothing else

Is so quickly ripped away

when I land back in this world again.

The reality of this world is not my own

when I fly.

The arms,

the body,

the spirit,

this airplane I hold.

Out of the dark night,

the dark woods,

the wilderness I crawled

with moments

of only a whisper

of the spirit on my lips.

Now to the pavement of a place I once knew.

The hangar.

door locked, sealed, protected,

Never ever unveiled

still now.

I bang on the door,

cast a curse to the lock,

scream to my father with anger..

“Where is the cockpit?!?

You took my fucking cockpit!!”

My back slides roughly

against the curled metal outside

of the locked hangar.

No opening, no answers,

no plane, thus—

no cockpit.

I was supposed to be in the plane with him that night.

I was supposed to protect him from dying.

and I failed.

No evidence,

no clues,

just a hangar.

But where there is the darkness

I had emerged from,

where there is a whisper of hope in His spirit

There is…

…what is now.

From every which way

mentors, prophets, loved ones—

servants of God have circled around me

until I looked and realized I wasn’t just looking anymore.

I was looking out a window

of an airplane.

(Father-Son-Holy Spirit)

And I think this time it is a military jet.

Loaded.

July 21, 2011