The Last Flight (Poetry) – by @Chybuzor1

This poem is in dedication to the victims of the Dana air crash of Sunday, 3^rdJune, 2012. Names are used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual persons is highly coincidental.

They hugged and pecked at the airport,

Love birds, they’d been one for many years,

No kid(s), yet they stuck as glue.

She bade him farewell, heart-warming it was,

She was missing him already but she had another him,

With her, laden and seven months far, she carried their son. Bliss!

He’d touch down in thirty, seal up a deal,

Hop in at his parents’ – The Okoyes,

Attend a meeting on Monday, sign some papers,

Get his cheque, sleep over at a five-star,

Fly back on Tuesday, this was the plan,

Sadly, it never was. Heart-rending.

She loved him profoundly, he was her bestie,

None else seemed near perfect, but him;

Thirteen years of her life, she’d known him,

They met in Uni, far away England,

First as friends, then as lovers, she was twenty,

He was a devout partner, they returned home,

Tribal issues cropped up, he gave her his word,

He kept to it, they tied the knots,

She swore to love him, forever, till death,

Conception issues sprang up, he stood by her, unwavering,

He was her first love, “it’d be fine”, he thought,

And it was, but he didn’t witness,

Between lift-off and now, was the biggest tragedy of her life,

It hit the news in a jiffy, she listened in utter disbelief, “this can’t be real!”

The one she just kissed goodbye, was that a final goodbye? It couldn’t be.

Her heart palpitating with terror, she rang a friend,

She needed company, to jolt her out of her outré dream,

The ill-fated Dana plane had crashed,

Into a building in Lagos, killing all 153 on board,

She was gravely wounded. Somber. Solemn. Downcast.

Her world was crashing, and swiftly too,

In a trice, she faded.

It all went dark.

Bimbo –her friend- got in on time,

Seventy five hours later, the Doc had managed,

With adeptness; to revive her twice,

But it was a double blow, she’d lost the pregnancy,

Her eyes opened finally, she lay on the Hospital bed;

Too weak to move, or think,

Pseudo-silent ambience, little whispers.

“Where is Jim?”, she cuts in, as expected,

Our eyes clash, all four of us – The Doc, Nurse, Bimbo and I.

I get the drift. “He’d be here in a bit”, I answered,

Then we made for the door, leaving the Doc behind.

At this point, I’m struggling to fight back my tears.

He was a gem of a neighbour.

Intelligent. Jovial. Respectful. He didn’t have to go, not this soon.

But for the Dana mishap,

This harrowing tale wouldn’t have been,

It wouldn’t have.

Henry Chybuzor Chuck

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