Hopping a train
Lord, grant me a quick burst
versus the slow gain
of speed in the short window,
muscles versus steam,
hand on the handrail, eyeing the narrow
wrought iron steps; with long hapless strides,
a blast of the whistle, a fire in the chest,
a loose strain on the body, not knowing what waits
if I can haul myself aboard – just knowing,
I don’t want to be here anymore
and this train is pulling out.
Lord, grant me the strength,
picturing You somewhere
in a third class compartment
surrounded by the mandali and aware
of my efforts, yearnings and despair;
aware of and awaiting my fait accompli.
I’ve got fingers ‘round the jolting
rail of my salvation, as the train
pulls cumbrously, inexorably away.
O child of God, to join the New Life
you must leave behind the old life.