"A Reflection at 35,000 Feet" by Saroya Whatley

Flying west as the sun sets

It’s like we’re trying to catch the last bit of light

Before the night rolls in,

Vainly attempting to remain in that twilight haze

Where everything looks so strange and beautiful

—perfectly preserved, frozen in time—

Before the darkness swallows it all

And hours later,

When the sun rises once more,

We bear witness to the shifts and changes.

Is that what we were doing

Those last few months?

Chasing the last streaks of orange before they faded into black,

Trying to stave off the inevitable?

Or did we really give it a shot

To change and mend and fix the cracks in the foundation?

Or was it just time to let nature take its course,

To let dusk bleed into night so dark

Even the shining stars were swallowed whole?

I don’t know anymore.

I’m just sitting here

In this void

Where I can barely see the outlines of my fingers and legs to know I am in fact alive, Despite how oppressive this night is, how it

Crushes my breath from my lungs

And leaves me with stinging eyes

And sticky cheeks

And a throat raw from screaming a voice

I no longer have left.

I like to think I’d give anything to see those last rays of orange light again, To feel the smallest warmth on my skin from those few tendrils of the dying sun, But I wouldn’t.

Because knowing what comes next

—isolation—

It’s a pain I don’t think I’ll ever have the strength to bear again.

Besides…

Daybreak will come at some point,

Meaning I’ll shift and change too

Though how remains a mystery.

It’s only a matter of time.

“What are you?” is a question Saroya gets asked constantly since she's ethnically ambiguous, and wears the occasional wig, whether it be black, gray, or green (like a mermaid). She is a biracial, bisexual feminist born and bred in the golden state of California who writes about the challenges of identity. Follow her on twitter @SRWhatley and find her poetry and collages on IG at @saroya_creates.