Home > train ride > Evening moments

Evening moments

The train is slowing down as the sun slips behind the horizon.

So much to think about and so little time to breathe it all in. The cabins are cozy and filled with Turkish cigarette smoke, mouths with Turkish delight. The conductor shouted out something but I was too labored to pay attention.

I wonder what the next turn will be bringing to me? A trip home? Reinvented love? Old memories that are reborn, fresher, newer and more toxic? Or will they leave my heart intact this time around? I wonder as I wander throughout the various cabins, peeking here, looking there.

Each room is different with a new vista in their windows. I could spend a lifetime in each cabin;mine seems so dreary after looking into so many others. Screeches and hoots. A jail cell. A lover’s cupped hand. A smile. It is all there for you to see.

She knew who I was and walked up to me. The priest had told her to stay away from the likes of me but she came anyway. I smiled at our our past and loved her all the more for it. I looked out my window to see wolves running along side the train with her reflection looking back at me.

I don’t know what to say to her. She came looking for answers but I can’t seem to untie my tongue. Fear? We make our pleasantries, our “How do you dos?” but then are silent, as tombs covered in Spanish moss. We are forgotten but we remember.

The priest has walked into the cabin. I am glad to see him. It breaks the silence we shared. He breaks a lot of things that we shared, but sometimes that is the role that you play, the cards you are dealt, so to speak.

She doesn’t turn away and this surprises me. I can hear her wanting to hold my hand, but she is afraid. Afraid of so many things, but mainly of being hurt, of looking foolish. I want to tell her to take my hand, to believe that she will never be hurt, never made a fool of, that I care. That I can love.

Instead, we bow our heads to our laps as though in prayer. I do pray but she cannot, nor will not. The priest is sitting with his papal vestments shining brightly, smug in seeing her sin. I see her beauty. Her honesty.

She took me in when the world had thrown me out.

Advertisements
Categories: train ride
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: