When a train departs,
No one asks "why". Noone attempts to stop it.
It may be headed for worst collision in history, or arrive on a schedule,
Dissapear and vanish into thin air never to be seen again,
Or pause mid-way,
As passengers decide they want to stop their past life and stay in the fields forever.
In the deep violet fields of blooming irises.
When a train departs, there is smoke, and laugher, and tears.
All part of the railroad experience.
You chose what to bring on it. You chose what to leave behind.
You forget yourself and talk to a stranger,
Or pretend to be asleep because the stranger rubs you the wrong way.
When a train departs, a part of me dies and wishes back for the beauty of the stations of my childhood.
The same stations, we laughed, could be used as bomb shelters.
Well, now they are used as bomb shelters.
With a single prayer written above them on the ground
In big letters so that God would read from the sky
Even if mortal men won't.
"Children".
When a train departs, you're in-between. Past and future, things to do and things you have already done
That no amount of tears can erase from your soul.
The worst sin is the things you didn't do,
Which led to others doing the things they did.
Because you did not do enough to stop it.
And you plead with yourself for fogiveness
And try to calm your mind with charity,
You almost trick yourself thinking it can work.
Hint: it doesn't.
When a train departs,
A child inside you hears the "my fine and distant future" and you know you failed that child, and you won't see the promised land.
So you clench your teeth shut, get up, and go man the tracks.
Because failure is not a good enough reason to give up.
