Sometimes when I get a random surge of creativity, I write short impressionist poems/stories. Here’s a aeroplane one, because stepping out of a plane always feels like a transition into a completely new life for me:

The next life

A field of tulips is moving like a red sea of blood,
flowing on the edge of perception as we land,
gently bumping onto the airport runway below.

When the fasten seat belt sign has been switched off,
you will leave the aircraft row by row,
stepping out on foreign soil, fresh from the past,
catching the first hints of spring rain on your tongue.

We ask that your hearts and table trays are in the upright position for take-off.

Have you left a piece of yourself behind,
a harsh imprint, an unspoken ghost in the air?
Just an empty coffee cup in the departure hall.

Did you meet someone on that plane,
lived a lifetime, never to see them again?
Or did it take you towards a new life,
the chance to grow, to breathe again?

Thank you for flying with us and we hope to see you again in the next life.