The naïve me believed I would be the one
To bring the ashen rubble and walls of stone
For our downtrodden feet to roam,
Collateral damage to avoid.
A train wreck.
Or so I thought.
I lived to breathe fresh air once more
And see the morning dew kiss
The sun so glorious and fair,
To touch happiness in spring.
The horizon held hope uncovered
With new perspective, laughter, smiles.
New faces and traces of a future gilded
Blinded in the collision;
Therefore, foreign in her own skin,
Separated from her own mind,
The heart and head were one,
And yet, Truth be hanged.
Never the same, forever changed
Hope buried amid wreckage,
Hearts bleeding, barely beating,
Yet she knows . . .
She'll live to breathe fresh air again,
See morning dew again,
Kiss the sun, glorious and fair.
Happiness will touch her someday.
I was and always have been a first responder too:
My friend who I never knew
Before had come to my rescue
And I to him mid winter's unrelenting strain.
Riding along on the same train,
We knew each other's pointed pain,
Stopping mid the freezing rain
To help and bless and gain
More than memories,
More than words can say.
Surrounded by ashen walls,
We tiptoe amongst the stones.
We roam the rubble and comb the walls, detoured,
Like an old-fashioned garden maze gone wrong
Bringing us together to recall the way home,
Travailing what we know, hoping for something more.
View from a Train Wreck
Ode to the Early Responders