By: Elena Fratis
I found you.
Something so personal.
Something so strong.
Another piece of writing
in which I am lost.
So deep so open,
a wound
in which was forgotten.
Your words once captured me,
now silent.
A story of a plane crash that never happened.
2016 you mark. 2020 it is.
That day I couldn’t breathe;
here I stand,
lungs filled.
Crisp cold mountain air. Clear blue skies.
So painful and beautiful.
So true and open.
So broken were your words.
“A plane with no wings”
“Nose down”
I’ll read this to another.
And they won’t understand,
the true story of the plane crash.
The story of how I felt.
Moments before.
Moments before.
I read that line and stopped.
This writing so true.
I don’t continue,
for fear of the ending
I’ve already memorized.
“The plane can hear the screams
of the wind,
As it rips through it with a force
that cannot be stopped”
Heart beating.
Heart beating.
Slowly heart beating .
16ft from the ground.
I’m reading the plane crash,
It’s 2016.
I have found you.
Another piece of writing,
In which I am lost.