It’s been one month today since my dad’s departure. I’m still unable to write what I want to write about him. So, here’s a few poems. He was a pilot from 1961 till the day he left earth. His Cessna 180 meant a lot to him.
The Bombers
Whenever I see them ride on high
Gleaming and proud in the morning sky
Or lying awake in bed at night
I hear them pass on their outward flight
I feel the mass of metal and guns
Delicate instruments, deadweight tons
Awkward, slow, bomb racks full
Straining away from downward pull
Straining away from home and base
And try to see the pilot’s face
I imagine a boy who’s just left school
On whose quick-learned skill and courage cool
Depend the lives of the men in his crew
And success of the job they have to do.
And something happens to me inside
That is deeper than grief, greater than pride
And though there is nothing I can say
I always look up as they go their way
And care and pray for every one,
And steel my heart to say,
“Thy will be done.”
— Sarah Churchill, daughter of Sir Winston
Flyer’s Prayer
When this life I’m in is done,
And at the gates I stand,
My hope is that I answer all
His questions on command.
I doubt He’ll ask me of my fame,
Or all the things I knew, Instead,
He’ll ask of rainbows sent
On rainy days I flew.
The hours logged, the status reached,
The ratings will not matter.
He’ll ask me if I saw the rays
And how He made them scatter.
Or what about the droplets clear,
I spread across your screen?
And did you see the twinkling eyes.
If student pilots keen?
The way your heart jumped in your chest,
That special solo day-
Did you take time to thank the one
Who fell along the way?
Remember how the runway lights
Looked one night long ago
When you were lost and found your way,
And how-you still dont know?
How fast, how far, how much, how high?
He’ll ask me not these things
But did I take the time to watch
The Moonbeams wash my wings?
And did you see the patchwork fields
And moutains I did mould;
The mirrored lakes and velvet hills,
Of these did I behold?
The wind he flung along my wings,
On final almost stalled.
And did I know I it was His name,
That I so fearfully called?
And when the goals are reached at last,
When all the flyings done,
I’ll answer Him with no regret-
Indeed, I had some fun.
So when these things are asked of me,
And I can reach no higher,
My prayer this day – His hand extends
To welcome home a Flyer.