BOON FLIER

BOON FLIER

Mia Golburgh

03/15/2023

March 2023

I
TO UNDERGROUND

It began as just a wind;
Flamed and deadly as hellfire, but wind it was
And wind it stayed.
A wind so harsh as to collapse the highest mountains
And dry the vastest seas,
It did.
The sky soon the color of the sea,
A blue green, shiny dark amalgamation of mirrors
Indiscernible and undeniably of nightmares.
The grass soon disappeared beneath the very foot of man
And was none left for the latest generation of young.
Man’s instinct to survive was tested.
Resources were now scarce, food a mile away and more,
Roofs, a luxury
Pure water, a gift from the most frugal mother.
Where else to search for saving but that from which we came?
The earth, the ground:
The Underground.
For years Man dug
Into the next generation and the next, until child was born without
Murky green blue mirrors overhead,
Shielded from ultra sunny rays of twisted sweet light.

II
BOON BORN

Boon’s very first memory was of screaming;
His own.
He remembered the darkness of Mother’s grim birth canal,
The darkness of the room he was pushed into,
The darkness of Father’s embrace,
The darkness.
The light of Grandfather’s reading lamp,
The light of his smile and cracked tooth,
The light he spoke for and with and about:
The “Old Sun”
The “Great Ocean”
Boon remembered bright eyes as Grandfather told him about his first time flying.
Man used to fly, Grandfather’s Father flew once too.
Boon wished each night to Grandfather
That he could take him to fly
Take him to a place even the highest Mountain envied
So distant, so mystical, out of reach.
But Men don’t fly anymore, he would say.
Men are buried
Men are lost down here, Boony boy.
We are no longer free, Boon,
But fear not.
Freedom is in the Overworld still,
In the “Great Ocean”
In the flight of “Birds”.
In here.
Boon mirrored his lost grandfather’s stance,
Hand over his heart
Tear in his eye.
He would find Freedom in here
And out there.
He would find the ocean and Grandfather.
He would fly.

III
TO OVERGROUND

For years Boon dug up in secret.
There was no way to reach the Overground
By walking or asking.
Boon’s once skinny arms and legs had grown,
And his height, he hoped, would soon follow.
Each set of hours that passed was one set closer to Grandfather again;
One step closer to Ocean.
And on a dig like any other,
In a dark grim canal like all the rest,
Boon hit gold.
Dust and dirt fell onto his hair and eyes closed instinctually.
Opening them again, he finally realized
An opening.
An exit.
An entry.
A light.
He punched through tiredness the rest of the way
Caring not about his stinging eyes or heavy breath,
Or bloody fists,
But of what was above him, just within reach.
The Overground.

IV
INTO DESERT

Boon could think of nothing but to scream and run and jump.
What he felt was unlike anything
He’d ever known.
He felt it deep in his stomach;
Deep in his heart — here.
He never looked back.
Boon walked through the Overground
Now vast and dry desert,
Looking up at the green blue, shiny dark “Sky”
As if it was a sightseeing tour of apocalypse
Of something that was now nothing.
Desolate.
New.
Boon saw only his Grandfather.
He walked and squinted up at the Sun.
The Sun.
It’s heat surrounded Boon, drenching his matted hair,
Beads of sweat fleeing the crevices of his body
Stinging his eyes.
Suddenly, a deep pain in his stomach.
The wind crept over him but he walked still.
Never look back.

V
KILLING MOON

Walking, walking still,
Boon could no longer feel his tongue or legs.
The sun had left him in darkness
In the feeling of emptiness and hunger and
Thirst and restlessness.
He missed Grandfather
The gleam in his eye, the memory in his creased forehead,
The confinement of life that kept Grandfather close.
Boon looked up at the
Moon
Only a reflection of the Sun, but not a mirror,
Its own glory.
The wind picked up sand, sending daggers straight into Boons gray eyes.
He stopped in his tracks.
A noise
A life
Near death,
It was clear to even the farthest humanity.
He forgot his eyes, his pain,
Running forward now towards the sound,
Familiar but unrecognizable,
A dying
Animal
With four legs, melted face, and beaded eyes.
Hungry, thirsty, empty,
Begging to move on.
Boon could only freeze in the face of such misery,
He held his mud caked head heavy, as he moved forward
Trying not to look into it
To see it.
His stomach churned
It grumbled
It realized.
Half buried, half living,
Boon and Beast,
Locked eyes.
The struggle was brief, leaving both beings grounded
Out of breath.
Boon understood.
The creature had chosen
He wanted to be set free.
He would be free.

VI
DARKNESS

The Moon shown brighter than the Sun for a fleeting moment,
Boon’s mind was ever present as he tore into the
Flesh and bone
Replenished by its newfound peace.
Boon wanted more.
He wanted to find Grandfather again,
The animal,
The Sun,
The Ocean,
Freedom.
Not a moment of rest did he take
For fear of losing his own time —
His life.
He kept walking
Through darkness,
Then light once more
Through sandstorm not quite Hellfire yet,
Through pain and numbness, fever and dearth
He walked on.
But Boon’s legs stopped in the desert sand
Against his will,
How long had it been?
The sun had disappeared long ago and reappeared to repeat.
He felt his eyes close
His small pale body sway.
He saw a faint outline in the distance
Coming closer.
Boon collapsed.

VII
FLIERS

A warm soft blanket under the palms of his hands,
Too fresh to be Earth.
Too natural.
A warmth surrounded him
His body and soul,
He felt himself
He felt alive
Boon opened his eyes to find faces looking onto him,
Too close, he thought.
They wore overcoats and thick discs over eyes,
To protect from the hellfire dust winds, they said to him.
They called themselves Fliers.
They lived in the Overworld.
Humans in the
Overworld.
Boon couldn’t believe it,
It seemed always impossible.
The Fliers told him that they grew small generations under the security of
An old world “Airport”.
They had dug for a water source,
Made their own purity
Made their own food, own clothes,
Adapting to the harshness of post-destruction.
Also
Fliers once could fly.
And Boon dreamed of only to fly.

VIII
FLY BOON

At once, Boon had explained to the Fliers that he must
Reach the Ocean.
But Fliers knew what he’d hoped not,
There was no way to get to such great mirrors without flying.
It would be impossible for Man to try to walk;
They had tried.
They had tried flying,
None had returned.
All now were frightened…
But fear not
Boon said.
Teach me to fly.
I will see the Ocean.
I will find Grandfather.
I will find you all.
Fliers young and tall came to meet the famous
Boon,
The Underground kid, fearless enough to fly to Ocean.
With each sunrise, Boon was taught “Airplanes”;
Was taught buttons and lights and safety.
He lifted and landed naturally
And felt his stomach jump and run with elation
Flying was in his blood — in here.
And the day had now come.
Fliers came again to see him off
With foods and overcoats and map they cried
In awe or in angst
Of fearless Flier Boon.

IX
HIT DESERT

The airplane lifted smoothly as each trial,
Floating now with “Birds”,
Some colored, some black as the clear night,
Big and small.
Birds faster than the fastest human,
Freer than an unbound beetle
With wings stronger than mountains and even
Hellfire winds.
Boon flew
For what seemed hours and hours,
Smiling all the way, barely blinking
As to not miss a beat of Earth’s beating soul — or what was left.
Still the vastness of desert and hollowness of ground,
But now the Sky within reach, a color indescribable
So close but so far.
So far too, now, is the Sun
Leaving the Stars in peace to return in hours.
Return to us
To Boon…
Thunder bellowed in the distance
Echoing the heavy feeling Boon felt far under his skin
Hidden, ever present
The wind picked up and so did it to the tiny sands
Hellfire
Once so far down, now hitting the windshields;
Smashing through
Slicing into metal and flesh
Forbidden red lights behind glass and wire now exposed
The ground rising
All so fast
And dark now
Boon caught glimpse of a Mountain in the near distance,
Head towards the peak, he thought,
Just a bit more
Keep flying
Fly Boon
Fly
Fly

X
TO FREEDOM

Return to darkness.
A stinging pain above his left brow
A leg he could barely feel
A shoulder pierced with — don’t look.
Boon felt so small
Weak
He used what was left of his body to force open the bent plane’s door,
And threw himself out.
He caught his breath,
Slowly
Only now
He was scared.
He would die.
Laying on his back looking up at the blue sky
Boon closed his eyes.
Breathe in.
He saw a setting of darkness once more
Run from darkness
Breathe out.
The sound of
Birds surrounded him.
The sound of crashing and cawing.
Beneath his fingers, he felt a soft blanket
Softer than the Fliers’, than that which was
Man made.
“Grass”
He opened his eyes, strength returned, childlike.
He picked at green Grass stained with his own blood.
His eye caught a Bird take off and fly above and behind him.
He heard it again,
A crash
Another
Another
He turned — cloudy eyes gleaming
Running up the hill, standing at the top,
Boon saw the Ocean.
Mirrors shattered
As the softness of the sunrise
Reflected true beauty in the sky and true freedom in the water.
Boon reached for his face:
Blood spattered.
Crying.
Smiling.
A Bird flew off above him towards the rising Sun
And Boon ran for the Sea.