Author Information
Training a Female Pilot
It was arduous task work, demanding my staid
concentration to stop her stalling like other abysmal,
wing clipped women in cockpit restraints. This was
a final lesson so she could solo her own aeronautical
flights. No doubt fear was a formidable antagonist
against her runway airlift. So seized by storms
of fallen angels, after Eden stole her sacred right
to spread her wings and create her own gardens.
My word salvos jolted her dread of autonomy,
with dogfighting reticence she would not let go
the throttle to increase propulsions, shouting stop
making me go faster, or we both die. Space-time
continuums jetted, breaking hard left before
lingering back via a tilt of the right wing. Whispering
names of patron saints, praying the training would
soon be over, so she could dither on the ground.
I yelled, if not right now, then when? It was a very
austere effort at her unaccompanied aviation. Like,
an eagle she needed a push to abandon the nest. I
said listen, you can rear alone, eye your altimeter. No,
was her first reply. I cannot handle this one engine
aircraft alone. She was clotted in panic, anxiety, and
sweat. So as her co-pilot instructor I told her, let us
collectively ascend through the fog and billows.
She spied the obscure horizon, and suddenly started
to cry. Then wiping away her tears, we started into
a dive. Instantly came uplifting sweeps of a confident
navigator. Her wings were steady, as women can climb
with powers of prolific transcendence. Independence
touching the soul of the cosmic skies, hitherto yoked
by eons of bondage, windless trepidation, and men
stifling all valors; no longer will she need a man to fly.
