Departure

The vibrations from the long trek across miles of tracks
still rattle within my steel frame,
as I squeal to a halt at my last stop.
They scurry and gather that which is important enough to pack,
and shove their way from the back,
and I'm relieved of their worries and troubles,
and I finally get a chance to wash and rest,
as the engineers do their final tests.

I suddenly awake with new coal,
fresh water,
new cargo,
and clean wheels
that don't seem to want to roll.
But despite another fresh start,
I feel I take the aches of my on board travelers,
and my steam condensates,
blending with the tears of those on board
who have succumbed to needs,
not wants,
as the beckoning distance begins to taunt
with an engineers final whistle
calls to prompt.
As a father says goodbye,
making the teddy bear
- a gift from his kids
wave to them in somber animation,
as they stand
waving back
from the edge of the train station.

My gears begin to grind
and accelerate to a slow start,
as though the wheels have been kind to the tracks,
and they beg them not to depart.
And I realize these passengers feel the same ache,
as they are my purpose,
they are my heart.
But the duties that lay ahead can no longer wait,
so I grimace and focus
and plumes of dust and dirt
follow me even though everything hurts.
And just like my passengers
I ignore the wills of my heart
and force my wheels to start.


Jordan R Shaver 08.20.2012

(Artwork by D. Harley Hall)