Beyond the Valley of Death

All heads are bowed as if in silent prayer; eyes reading newspapers with headsets on—some are sleeping, others just too afraid. The humming of the massive jet engine is enough to lull me to sleep, although, dare I while up this high?

The altitude is 39,000 feet and just the thought of it, the idea of being confined, not being able to see the horizon, makes me think of coffins. I feel closed in until I glance out the window, and once I see the glory of eternity, then I remember that I can fly. I can jump from where I’m sitting and land on a cloud, and like a dancer, I can leap my way across each fluffy pillow until I get to my secret haven.

The man next to me is an accountant. His ledger paper and calculator are very busy; and he’s slouched over as he hits the keys, pausing every few seconds to push his eye glasses back up from the tip of his nose. As I watch him, I notice that he’s crossed his ankles, showing off his beige socks which doesn’t match his grey slacks. I begin to chuckle ever so quietly thinking that he needed help getting dressed this morning.

The flight attendant walks passed me again, and she turns her head from right to left, occasionally smiling when she makes eye contact with a passenger. Her head is high, and her posture perfectly aligned; she thinks she’s on the catwalk when the truth is she believes she’s nothing more than a glorified waitress.

I can’t help to think that every person on this carpet ride has one thing on their mind and that’s the glitter and gluttony of the forbidden valley. But as for me, I have two things on my mind. 
Panic.
Terror.

What bone curdling fear did those innocent warriors feel when their plane glided through the sky? No need for an elevator to the roof, for the towers roared and screamed, until they broke down and sobbed, collapsing to the ground. And they aren’t coming back and neither are those souls.
No need to knock on heaven’s door. It was opened and waiting for the good to die young.

The Canyon is my destination. It’s where it began. It was my connecting flight to the magnificent Seven—the truth of who I am. I was given the secret of a power who’s bigger than any powers on earth. Millions of years and many lifetimes are my destiny.  The orange and red maze of ghosts call me, saying we’re one.

From up so high, it stuns me. I never recalled anything as beguiling as this. Thousands of acres formed over billions of years, still here, to prove a point. All the departed roam this plane. The Colorado River looks like a thread snaking through this puzzle, and as I stare through my tiny window, through the clouds, the same clouds that I recall from my first pilgrimage, I know I’m home.

Eight years in the making, and my metamorphosis from death to life is a work in progress.

valentine defrancis 2011  all rights reserved.

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