Did you know that in WWII pilots used to travel across the Arctic, north north north in the endless dark and the endless freeze, in order to avoid flying over enemy ground? America to Britain, heat to heat, war surging and boiling and seething to the south, angry and red as a wound, and all this dreadful cold in between. Flying with just the roar of the engines and the whistle of the wind and the hush of your own breath, over emptiness and ice - but how could you find your way? The stars are different, up there. They spin in frozen circles. And planes would get lost, because the men couldn’t read the night sky that had always been their woman, their guide. Their compasses would wander aimlessly as would their plane, wandering aimlessly through the night. Those men were alone. Truly alone. They no longer knew their earth and their heaven. The needle did not point to north any more. They sat in metal birds at the top of the world, lost as little children.
They are still finding them in the ice, planes stuck like splinters
Dad told me this story in his unromantic pragmatic way and it really got to me I guess
That was a beautiful piece of writing. The truth behind it adds to its power.
Thanks so much! The story really really got to me when I first heard it. It's such a striking image.
Amazingly poetic and yet historical. Thank you for this, and it was very much deserving of the feature it received.
There's a reason why I continue to read your poetry... You have the ability to keep a reader coming back for more, that is what really separates a writer from a poet I believe... and you Madame, are a poet.
As FuzzyHoser said, this poem does make you think, it is most intriguing at the very least. My only critique is that it seems a little rushed... but do not allow me to change your writing style, for it's still a greatly enjoyable piece.
Oh thank you so much!
This probably is a little rushed, it needs spacing, both in the flow and sound of it and the actual arrangement on the page. Maybe I'll come back to it some day? Anyway, thanks for the gorgeous compliment and the feedback!
There's not enough poetry that makes people actually think. I love this for that reason. Wonderful writing, you.
Thank you so much! I just couldn't get the thought out of my head, about being lost in the Arctic in a tiny little 1940s plane, with the stars going in fucking CIRCLES, such an interesting and tragic sidenote of history.
You're so completely welcome! I get really stuck on ideas sometimes, too, but I envy how your thoughts spin around. You're an original fer suresies.
This is so achingly reminiscent. That's the best way I can think to describe it.
This is beautiful and lonely, and sort of frightening too, you described the silence perfectly, and I love the mention of metal birds at the top of the world
.needs for you to compass heading not asfaras tars)
A compass heading not as far as stars?
always brings on a smile 2 all tmhora,
so much to do so little time, anyway yes or a Viewfinder may be even an EDM, one can put the brightest at ones nose then take the heading. Hope your holiday period time went well as did mine,