From check-in counters, security lines,
Baggage carousels, and taxi drivers,
There is only one space that comes to mind
A space where families depart for
vacations; lovers are reunited; and young
adults leave home for the very first time
A space where travelers find refuge and
routine inside the chaos; where they can
rest and reflect on the journey they’re on
An airport is neither the place
you are coming from nor the place
you are going to; it is a place entirely its own;
It abides by its own rules, creates its own
norms, and carries with it an identity
of being nowhere and everywhere all at once.
You can visit every country in the world
inside airports, just by listening to the languages
people speak, by observing the way they act;
An airport is a conglomerate of countries
coming together and separating all at once in
powerful supernova of stars
An airport is a liminal space
a place of transition – which makes it
not really a place at all, but a feeling
A feeling like saying goodbye;
or a feeling of coming home.
____
I wrote this poem while sitting in JFK after a 14-hour flight from India, in the middle of my transit home. I’ve been to dozens of airports at this point in my life, and each time, it evokes a similar feeling and experience. For me, airports are the in-between spaces that we as travelers all reside inside. They are spaces that, despite whatever separate, chaotic journeys we all may be on, we can all share.
If you liked this poem, check out another one I wrote about my life in Jaisalmer here!
STORYTELLING TRAVELER 