Saturday, July 23, 2011

Hope

There comes a quiet passage
of time on a train,
it arrives about 4 a.m.,
the sky lit like ash,
when the night journey is
halfway through and
halfway begun.
Every dark station and spreading tree
passed by assumes
a fleeting fragility
and stillness.
I dreamed last night
I nearly died and then
awoke today, at the
end of the line,
to rain and
faintly heard birds.
It’s hard to have hope
in such a dark room
where light merely filters in;
barely, haphazardly.
This is my moment,
and I am 5 years old again.


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