Hey Darlin’. Listen, I know this is a little late in the posting, but I was spending an amazing afternoon with my kiddos touring Fort Collins’ awesome Museum of Discovery and spending upwards of three hours testing out every. single. musical and weather related experiment. It was a rare moment of beauty when I could drop being the “serious parent” and play. I hope you can find this in your life too.
Today is an oldie but a goodie. I’ve hung on to this one, revamped it, tweaked it, poured over it and abandoned it in a thousand ways, so I’m submitting it to ya’ll with a grain of salt and the caveat that I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions.
Partly inspired by that amazing song of Paul Simon’s “Train in the Distance”, partly from the muse of young love (like I said, this one’s been around a long while because we all know, I ain’t no spring chicken.)
Hard is the moment when your heart loses hold,
Throws you down the last stair you didn’t see.
Shakes your body, breath-catching, squawk of fear.
The impending release, a train in the distance.
Hear the canyon-rolled moan, feel the grumble,
Shaking through the bottoms of your feet.
When you thought there was time.
Time to roll the memories over your tongue.
The smell of his shirt,
the fleshy warmth of his bottom lip between your teeth.
The particular scrape of stubble against your neck.
Time to hold your lonely gravity against his charming heart
Time to hope for a chance
that his soul might settle into yours
Like some god made him just for you.
The key to your dreams.
But that damn train…
Howling as it knife-edges closer.
Until, predetermined on its track, it rolls in
and the horror hits you.
They have to go.
And trying to hold them is like holding on to madness
Except, you’ve already stitched him there,
With that unreasonable spark hope. Incredible notions of destiny.
The train pulls away; tugs at delicate threads,
Unevenly, where your heart has grown around the stitches.
(Like the stitch of crows feet around laughing eyes.
The stitch of a stolen kiss while he watched you sleep)
And you ache from the pull. but you can’t stop the train.
And when it’s billowing stacks are all you see,
When its mournful bawl is all that’s left your ears,
you look down.
To all that remains… a gaping, bloody mess.
Shredded tissue, dripping a fever
Soaking wooden platform beneath feet.
That’s what letting go feels like;
Dripping blood, hot on your toes, shadowed by the fading
light of a train in the distance.