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Listen to the Train Tracks

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  • Listen to the Train Tracks

    Listen to the Train Tracks

    We are sitting at the ends of a crossroad.

    the train tracks are buried under pellets of rust and dirt,
    We are standing at the beginnings of a crossroads.
    the train rolls on ahead past us, the wind rushing,
    dancing Cold plays with the tail feathers of my shirt,
    through my silver lined hair, a world is gushing,
    We are alone at the center of a crossroad.

    the great beckoning sky against our iron clad wrists,
    the brisk autumn wind blooming gold and scarlet through our hijabs,
    yes. We are together at the heart of a crossroad.
    the great beckoning sky against our whitened knuckles, outlines for our fists,
    the brisk autumn wind painting blue and black on our scars,
    We are scared grazing at the steel bars of the crossroad.

    the lovely bright Green,
    He walks on past the crossroad,
    like the train that flies past us, shoring up far from the horizon,
    like the train that flies past us, embellished, dizened,
    yes, We are dreaming of the life past this crossroad.

    sister, We say, hear us,
    brother, We say, hear us,
    mother, We say, hear us,
    father, We say, hear us,
    We are one, for We all felt the pain of this crossroad.
    We are one, for We all understand the pain of this crossroad.
    We are one, for We can all listen to the train tracks.

    Rachael Wang,
    El Segundo, California
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