i have a photograph of a photograph.
one moment in time, twice removed…
the first thing i notice is the way perspective
makes all lines meet in the end…
and of course, the way the light
meets the fog meets the air.
this is the glow we all want-
like the luminous promise
the horizon hands out twice a day.
sepia always sings of things
gone long time out of reach.
there are words written
along the length of these tracks
it’s just if you want to read them,
you have to stand in the way of the train.
or give up the solid and crushable human form,
become something else…
transparent and permeable.
her face is fading from me
moving, without sound,
away from the station
pulling away on the overnight train.
sometimes the world comes so clearly,
like a film, with lines for all the players:
tracks say: i have to go now…
telephone wires: i am tracing the way you leave…
train says: i carry the heartache, the hope, back and forth
and the station, (the station being a metaphor for itself)
the station has no need for words,
having so many times been home
to these endless human stories.
like waking from a dream
where your hands were full
of all the things
you don’t get to keep
walk the long length out of town,
tight-roping the quiet tracks
into the point where things disappear
into the empty of open hands…
© Katherine Ferrier 2008