Air Pressure

My father told me to always secure my own oxygen mask before helping others. Sitting on a plane, I suddenly understood why he had to leave our family.

He woke up suddenly
from a deep slumber
to the ping of an emergency bell

With a look of surprise
from bloodshot eyes, saw
a scene that experts did foretell

His ears had popped
as the pressure dropped
in the cabin that held his family

Progress of the flight
that was his life
was diving toward fifty

And each terrified face
was a sign of the race
that he had never wholeheartedly run

Now time had run out
and so, too, the doubt
that he carried about what should be done

He rose to the task
and secured his own mask
and breathed easily for once

Then the same was done
for his kids by their mum
more quickly than he could be

He heard small lungs breathe
though they were safe, he could see
that they’d never see him the same