Turbulence

flight from Denver to LAX

girl next to me

shaking so hard her hands

were in fists, sobbing so

that you had to look twice

to know she was mentally paralyzed

head bent down

whispering to someone

not there, though surrounded

by strangers, she was completely alone

her own consciousness

not able to accept the circumstances

of turbulence, of her public disintegration

I think of her now when I fly

if I should have said something

to calm her down

but then I realize

we're all dealing with our own minds

and their constant humming

stuck in a jet stream

anxiety screaming, but not publicly

a rattling, an impermanent life sentence

that consumes and lies to us