Mid leap to nowhere, I stare
at the apartment window reflecting
the frozen moment. There
I am, small, insignificant, and
five stories high
on the thought that, soon,
I won’t be able to think.
A moment before: I was sprinting
through the Wadi of Death,
On a deep canyon pool deck,
between two dread towers,
towards the barrier,
That I had to clear
Before I commenced
my departure.
Descending, I survey
strata of existence;
signs above shops
and hard sidewalk
pointlessly advertise opportunities.
My last journey has begun,
not organized by Mid-east Sun
Travel, merely guided by them,
on my final flight to freedom.
AJK