Limbo
Seated by choice or misfortune
in a window seat on an airplane,
Thirty-three thousand feet in the air,
I am full of hope and despair.
Do I look forward to the future to come,
or back to the past I am from?
Am I in transit or in transition,
a connection or disconnection?
Is the blue I see through the window
the sky above or the ocean below?
At five hundred miles per hour
fate approaches, memory retreats,
and thirty-three thousand feet in the air,
I am full of hope and despair.
from a poetry class assignment; the first two lines are from Elizabeth Berg’s novel Night of Miracles