The Parachute Poem by Gert Strydom

I get a brown parachute
and make sure that it’s folded right,
strap it to my back
and feel that it fits well.

You must make certain
that a parachute
can carry weight,
if it’s a parachute

I accompany a troop of soldiers
into a aeroplane
that takes of roaring from the runway
and we fly higher and higher
until the light first flashes red
and then green
and the aircrafts engines stop
while my heart beats in my throat

I get my turn
to stand at the open door
and see how the landscape
flashes past like a picture
beneath me.

Then I break through the wind
and count wordless
before my hand finds the pull string
and I fly on wings of silk
that folds open and draws me up.

The world lies small beneath me
and the wind swishes gale strong
and in my thoughts I fly up into the sky
past other parachutes
and the aircraft
while the clouds fold around me
and I go through the stratosphere

Later it gets chillier
and I can hardly breath
and I must be near
the mesosphere

In the vacuum around me
the earth lies
like a blue-white ball
at my feet
and I am past the thermosphere
and around me I see the universe
with stars and planets without number.