Poem: Waiting on a Train

[alee_grrl]

My father has always loved trains, and we frequently lived very near to tracks. So the sounds of trains are usually a familiar sound. This poem could have been written using a number of travel metaphors, but I knew it had to be trains. I have really been struggling with how to capture the complex emotional mess that is hospice waiting.

So I am turning to my common outlet and seeing if writing will help me clarify what I'm feeling or just make me cry (apparently I need a good cry). This is a seriously rough draft.

Waiting on a Train


This isn't Kings Cross, or even Penn Station.
There's no fancy marble, no grand designs--
hell there aren't even train tracks
just dust and early autumn leaves
yellow on the wind.

The sun's still warm; the day's still golden.
But the wind is sharp; the days grow shorter.
Your smile is slower and I can see
the distance in your eyes
watching for a train we cannot see.

But we will sit here with you
in the golden afternoon
that seems to stretch on forever
and wait for that last train.

I can almost hear that lonesome whistle
wailing as the train chugs our way
under stars and over mountains
heading to the valley of the sun's children.
I feel it's approach in the rattle of your breath;
see it in the yellow of your eyes.

We can try to make you comfortable
and sit with stories to ease the wait
which seems both eternal and far too short.
We know you have your ticket, the fare was paid long ago.
There are no bags to pack for this train.
So we wait, we love, and breathe a long goodbye.

Comments

[sulien]

This is what your heart sent to your hands in order to express itself, and it is beautiful and heart rending beyond words. Please consider keeping this as it is, even if you tweak it and make another poem, this one should stay in the form it is now.

*sending supportive vibes and virtual hugs*

[alee_grrl]

After re-reading it this morning I realized this was finished and perfect as is, but it is nice to hear that from someone else. Thank you.

::hugs::

[jjhunter]

That last line, especially. Lyrical, aching, like a stone skipping across the heart.

Also, this feels like it wants to be set to music.

[alee_grrl]

It probably does. There was a whole lot of music going through my head when I wrote it.

[calissa]

Very visual. I loved the repetition of yellow/gold throughout.

<3

[alee_grrl]

Thank you. <3