Turbulence

To think I almost died in mid air
stuck between the seat and the bleeping  sound
noise, and a plastic cup with horrid orange juice
the shaking, earth-bound and earth-made is much to question
there's wind where one cannot see his shadow,
there's void in the voice that tells me, confidently
clearly, that the winds will stop
that the world will keep turning
the things that fall out of the sky are received by earth
duly, loosely, with the right ingredients of love and darkness
I shake, left axis, right spots
hoping that the fall, won't be like angels hitting clouds
on their way to earth
to kill and give birth
to deem and doom.