She rode a train with no carry-on baggage,
no companion at her side
She rode a train with no whistles
no announcement of her departure
She rode a train on a track of all curves
the pathway forward obscured
She rode a train through tunnels of darkness
that later emerged into sunlight
She left disillusion at the station
She left greed there with her baggage
She left fear, angry words, and brokenness
She rode to her unknown future
This poem was inspired by Joy Harjo’s poem She Had Some Horses.
Wind Rush 
The use of repetition provides an intensity to your poem. I hope she found what she was looking for.
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Yep, she did and more! Thanks for stopping by, Heather.
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Love this
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Thank you.
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Beautifully written – if only there were a train to take me away from my “luggage” of angst at violent intolerance. We’re all “a track of all curves / pathway forward obscured” but most of us drag along our luggage of convictions. Your poem is a nudge to lighten that load a bit.
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Once again, you have a way of seeing things in my poem I did not see myself! 🙂 Then again I wrote this poem before I read about the horrible tragedy (yet another one) in the TX school. Is that anywhere near you?
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Uvalde is 177 miles away (per online map) – this incident amplifies fear in all who work in public schools – my daughter does [my husband did before retiring in 2021]. Texas promotes gun ownership; Texas restricts public school funding. Bad combination, highlighted in Uvalde. Your poem reminds me to focus on potential learning from this tragedy rather than packing more hatred into my political perspectives bag. Also, I ponder that young man’s view of his road ahead – the road behind him – how one’s view can be very different from another’s though side-by-side.
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Wow, sometimes one has to let go of so much to be able to let go of what one must!
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Yes, and letting go is so liberating! Thanks for stopping by.
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Great rhythm, I could hear the tracks.
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Oh, you make my heart sing, Bill. That was exactly the rhythm I was trying to create. Thanks so much for your kind words.
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