Wings of hope

A dedication to third level airlines in PNG.

Wings of hope

On their gentle wings,
Women and children fly.
And sickman eventually finds
Peace, healing and more.

O how they grace the skies,
And hope they bring to many
A forgotten soul who, under
Cloud cover and thick jungles
Speak of dreams of hope.

And gather in enthusiastic crowds,
With smiles the sun and the moon,
Can only hope for in their brightest.


Then their dreams fly,
Into clouds to sing to others who
Can hear and let their hearts beat.

To a disharmony that pervades
Many a fine land on cruel ridges,
In deep valleys and on lonely islands,
Where the sun and the moon
Mock day and night.

O these birds, sounds of technology
That grace our skies thru thick and thin;
Aren’t they our wings of hope?

I watched on the shore.

I watched as waves rushed, one after

the other to the shore as if to

escape from a prison deep and vast.

Breaking their anger and emptying

their frustrations in loud confusions.

Their frustrations of continuous

imprisonment in this vicious

cycle day and night.

Those who journeyed before, encouraged

by new wind journey again and again

on tired crests and troughs.

To together break their anger and

empty their frustrations.

What manner of respite would redeem

them from this stranglehold of the

ocean so deep and vast.

Not even the calmest of breeze

caressing the ocean's surface nor a

beautiful clear blue sky is appeasing.

To escape from deep and vast ocean

will take forever which none have.

And they continue day and night to

break their anger and empty their

frustrations on the shores where

idle and hardened rocks watch.