Wings

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Hovering thirty thousand feet above ground; there is an intimacy with the clouds, as the plane nagivates through the nebulous midst, amidst the blackened night. This as black as robust coffee, a fanthomless void, and liquid gold. On my window I can see a wing slice through night effortlessly, as a knive does through cheesecake. Its wings like an eagle´s spread wide. Yet, from the corner of my eye I perceived the subtle presence of angels carrying these wings, I know this because my mom prays for me. These angels have long, reddish hair, and alabaster skin. They are ethereally beautiful without comparison to anyone.

Looking downwards, one can make tiny dots like rhinestones punctuate the dark landscape. How small, fragile, and naive man seems then, asleep after a weekend of debauchery. The clock dictates when to get up to get on the wheel yet again. How amazing is man´s vision. He is able to imitate birds in flight, and thus travel far. Yet, one must account for the downside of such advances. This in solidarity of voiceless protests my ailing whales, who line up on the shores and silently suffer, devoid of voice, rights, and vote.

I finally arrive, and thank God. I am the last one to exit, to let the herd go by. Upon exiting the plane I am met by an uniformed man, who hands me a medical mask. I enter a shuttle full of a sea of surgically masked. I am at a loss as to what to do, as I have a strong aversion for any type of restrainment. How will I navigate this situation? I feel as if I am entering the Twilight zone. Now in perspective, I know it was a prelude to what was to become a day torn from the page of Dante´s Infierno…which drove me to drinking…a Negra Modelo.




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