Planes

Death before the come of it
and building bridges, building roads, without a space to put the rest of grief
A life left stretching overseas
the plane you didn't catch, an almost-funeral, death before the breakthrough bit

There's your life after; split in two
Another universe, a million unspoken words
The man outside, knocking on heavens door
and the way you couldn't feel your hands
Before a body crashes, rattles, passes warmth
Years until that last breath shared
Years until you realize you should have cared
Years before you stop a while
A minute more until you feel,
Everything at once
And then nothing at all

But ten years strolling on the street
fifty with two kids, lost love, do or will you know what's come of it?
And where to turn when row in row the people leave and you refuse to reap what's sown
Twenty years bestown
You promised god a second chance, a taking, a plan

Before the walls dissolve
Before you close your eyes, before your heart gives out
Maybe in another sixty years
Who's to say
Who is to say?

And would you change it if you knew

Because a part of you is in a fabric seat
A part of you is dead, immovable

A part of you can't
A part of you isn't

And what do you make of this?