I was raised up believing I was somehow unique. Like a snowflake, distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see. And now after some thinking I’d say I’d rather be a functioning cog in some great machinery, serving something beyond me. But I don’t, I don't know what that will be. I’ll get back to you someday soon. You will see.
-Helplessness Blues
Another season in transit: New York to Virginia to Massachusetts to Illinois and back again. Another season on trains and buses, nursing those helplessness blues.
This summer, the eastern US has flown by an open window, while I've sat and wondered what the future will bring. Oh I've tongued that question like an aching tooth– every touch plunging to the nerve.
But in the blue-black night, curled up against a train window, there is a tonic for that ache. I awake without my bearings, and for a moment lose myself to the night. A nameless little life hurtles across the world then– stability in motion– roots wrapped around the whole damn thing.
Mine is a prayer to the road, whispered to the rumbling lullaby
of wheels on asphalt:
Make me a leaf, swept ever downriver.
No comments :
Post a Comment