Flying in January - A Poem

Highway 1, Northern Malibu

Drag me away while I’m lost in deep sleep

so I’m not tortured by the sound of wheels

upon freeway pavement, crowded and steep,

or an airport runway, with all it steals.

Push me through time zones but don't let me know

how unbearably quick all can be lost

when a plane moves fast but a heart moves slow

and the distance between carries a cost.

Comfort me softly, but not too often

or my soul may never release its hold

on the past and memories that soften

the leaving and the longing and the cold.

My fingernails are cracked from clinging to

the California coastline— warm, vast, blue.

(Andrew Sandahl, 2019)