LAST TRAIN

LAST TRAIN

The last train was due in the station
at 9:15, and I gathered my belongings,
looking left and right to see if anyone
was watching me as I held my purse close.

I had arrived early that September morning,
sitting there and watching people embark
on a journey, watching as they disappeared
into the train, ready to change their lives.

So eager were the children, laughing as they
ran ahead of their parents, climbing aboard
and hollering "Hurry Up!", excitement rising
as the train whistle sounded once more.

An old couple, helping each other along
toward the train, she urging him on although
his steps were ever so slow and painful;
Slow motion, but the train would wait for them.

It was time. I stood and lifted my bags
and started the long walk to the last train;
a porter appeared and asked to carry them
and the treasures of a lifetime were gone.

Panic set in and I turned to call him back;
I decided not to go, after all, I had waited
for so long and still it wasn't right for me
to just leave without finishing my job...

The whistle sounded once more, the train moving
ever so slowly, but without the clickety-clack
sound, and in seconds it was gone out of sight
and I was standing there, bags beside me.

Bright lights, voices fading in and out and
pain so deep I couldn't stand it, eyes opening
to a blur of faces above me, willing me to live;
a sudden shout of joy: "She's going to make it!"

Months later, as my broken body healed, I was
able to go home. They told me I was a miracle
to have survived the crash, I didn't remember
and yet, I remembered clearly the train...

No railroad within miles, I was told, and I
probably was dreaming...

Countrymom
8/3/05