Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Jet Lag

I awake speaking Spanish,
not sure where I've slept.
I hear strange bird calls,
and the sky is dark
when it should be light.
Tomorrow seems an ocean,
impenetrable, and I find myself
thinking of gardens crowded
with trumpet lilies
and hummingbirds.
My daughter says
I've flown too fast.
She holds my hand and tells me
my spirit will catch up.
I am home.


  1. Jet lag, never thought of that as a subject for a poem, but yours captures the experience beautifully, with that strange sense of dislocation and longing.

  2. Welcome Home Beth! Glad you made it safely...hopefully your spirit isn't far behind. Enjoyed the poem :)

  3. Beautiful, wonderful poetry... love it, Beth! You've captured those fleeting hallucinations associated with sleep deprivation and jet lag. I used to work rotating shifts, and this brought back that experience of decades ago... waking from sleep so disoriented and with strange (and many times beautiful like this) images dancing in my head. Thank you...

  4. PS -- "flow too fast... spirit will catch up"... love that!

  5. I see that your blog is[also]swimming in verse. I relate easily with this poem and I especially enjoy /Tomorrow seems an ocean/ and the perfectly innocent(and rational!) /My daughter says/I've flown too fast ... ha! That says it all, doesn't it?
    A pleasure to meet you, Beth :-)

  6. Anonymous7:12 AM

    I love the last four lines. Great way of depicting jetlag. Thanks for sharing!