I am at a train station. Here it has dropped me off, here another will take me away.
The last train left from childhood, past valleys and hills, through long nights in dark woods, where I learned a great deal and lost a great more,
I was there, now here,
seems like just yesterday,
I was dreaming of a journey, heard my call, yes, bought my ticket, ran to the station whooping and a-hollerin’,
Just last year saying, I’m going to be a writer. Set on a destination.
And now, here, in layover, in a place I do not know,
I do not know how I got here,
but I followed the tracks,
and I think I’m lost,
I am far from my goal,
and I’m waiting,
I am anxious.
I would like to leave, yes, let’s get going, keep it moving, I am ready to get there, but I am not
ready for it.
It is not ready for me,
otherwise we would be together.
I hear the train whistle,
but I do not see it yet,
I do not know what it looks like,
or what direction it’s coming from,
but it’s coming.
I can hear it.