|Airplane Mode (To Mom and Dad)
May 8, 2015
Having minimal functionality,
I wander in this infernal dead zone.
Constant searching will only drain me,
Not bringing me closer to this unknown.
Infuriating error messages
Represent all that I am receiving,
Instead of my requested presages,
Required to help make sense of grieving.
Comfort commences as they hear the news,
Rallying to attend my every need.
One takes solace in the 'thinking of you's'
As well as in scripture they love to heed.
Eventually they can turn away
Posting meme, picture, and pithy remark,
Turning their walls a glorious array
While mine remains somberly stark.
I hang suspended for who knows how long
Waiting for the all-go light to appear.
On that day, I hope the signal is strong
So that I hear what I would die to hear.