Monday, March 11, 2019

Ode To Jet Lag

Nothing comes free of charge
Or consequence
These days we graze continents
Light as fog that winds 
Thin strips around beloved mountain passes then lifts at dawn
We skip over oceans, rivers, deserts in hours
Trips our ancestors measured in months and lives lost
We count in dollars and shitty internet connections
The substance of life becomes cheap
What’s a little lost sleep
But then it comes for us
At 2 AM
Inevitable as death
Jet lag
To remind us that we are still bodies in the world
                                                              Bodies of the world
And the physics of the globe and space and sun 
Work on us
Surely as they form the flora and fauna on which our continued lives depend
We are just skin bags of salty water propped up with bones 
Like the internal frame backpack my dad bought me when I started traveling 
Twenty years ago
We fill ourselves up
And then we break down
The holes are inevitable
As death
Where do you fray
Where do you weaken
How do you mend
Do you become strong
So many choices along the road that may lead to wisdom
So many opportunities to peer into the darkness
Of a strange place
Where we cannot read the signs
Do not know the shape of these trees
Have not yet fallen in love with this landscape
Where we are deaf to all but gesture and gist
Suffering from jet lag
But fearless and free and fierce 
And alive 
In soft bodies
That know, whether or not our digital selves wish to admit it
That nothing comes
Free of charge or consequence
And our today-self 
Is the now-consequence
Of yesterday’s everything
And so today we must choose to live as if we knew
We were drawing up the plans for tomorrow
Every day until 
The inevitable.

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