In Memory Of A Pilot Son

They'd struggled hard, money and means, To force phase out flying coffins, Turned grief into life-long mission, For cub pilots' safe transition, Their son had lost a nascent life When a sortie turned into strife— The way many young pilots had, To powers that be was just too bad. Call it an institutional terror But tragedy's no ‘pilot-error', Yet, poor pilot was a Cross-bearer O of an aging aircraft's error. Long as human life counts for little, Death of young life would fail to rattle. _______________________________________ A young trainee pilot lost life in a flying accident. Enquiry called it a pilot error, when in essence it was a machine error of an aging aircraft flogged beyond its working life (we all know of flying coffins) . His parents were shocked but turned the tragedy into personal mission. They worked hard and established an aerospace institute with a mobile simulator to train young pilots. Recently it earned a medal from the Royal Aeronautical Society. This piece of news moved me so much (my son once flew the same aircraft) , this poem was born. ____________________________________________ Happenings | 38.01.2019 |