Home > train ride > Caterwauling in Toronto

Caterwauling in Toronto

Night scenes.Laser beams pierce our eyes as we leave the pub. I remember a fight, a broken jaw. I was alone in a bus stop. Poster of a starving child in shelter. Black.White. Black I think. Alone. I had to get out.

Called home. No one there. There never is when you live on the streets. Cold reality of life settles in. Snow falls in the July heat. Alone and bleeding. Alone and seeding hate filled lies that lead to men and their demise. Not that they have any trouble finding it, it is always around the corner for the lost. Was I lost? The child in the bus shelter said yes, I was lost. Love broken rings, butts on the pavement with blood dripping. Lost. No heart. Spirit on fire with anguish.

Some at the station are like vapor. Ghostly smiles, faded warmth and eyes that plead knowingly at your innocence. Your heart stood the test of time and Jesus has finally found you. You. It was you He has been looking for, for so many years. He has found you in the linen, the blood soaked lined and has made it clean.

Back tracking to the memories. Nostalgic delights of growing old. Nostalgic delights of growing with someone other than myself. Alone. The ferry crossed the river and has brought me here..to you, where I belong. You do understand? There is always room in the heart for more, to love more, to scream more, to reach for unimaginable heights, but you need to  believe, believe in us. Believe in the dream that can never die. It is all here.

The priest stares mockingly again at my words. Says the impossible is unimaginable. Never to be attained. What does he know? He forfeited his unrepentant heart eons ago.Last weeks news was even older to him. Slain by the Lamb. Train ride for the damned.

Don’t stop dreaming because that is where your freedom lies. Outside the normal. Catch a ride and be free. Let the heart feel the sun.

Life was a fond memory. The train pulls away. Nothing is distant.Nothing is nearer today than it was yesterday. We live on the outside.That is our calling, that is our pride. We are one, two, three, steps by side.

You are not happy. I can still hear you. Send me a telegram here on the train. I’ll reply.

Advertisements
Categories: train ride Tags: , , , ,
  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: