Train Ride Through Unknown Country
A poem
My seat is next to a window. Across from me was a stranger, gone now, leaving room to kick up my tired feet. It's been a long journey, full of tales I will one day tell. Outside the window the land charges toward us. Unknown country, familiar only in its newness to me. This is how I create the world: scribbling notes and clicking pictures, straining to stop or slow or understand. Then the rushing feeling: rapid movement a relief. Unknown country passes before it can be held, shaped, transcribed. It is gone yet I am going. So I put away my notebook and I put away my camera and I watch the world wordlessly unfurl in the small window afforded me, suddenly aware that there is no stopping. Not yet.
Very well written. I was going to say almost the same thing as dad. Dad and I have spent so many hours on a train and you captured those feelings so well. I am proud of you.
Nice piece, Hunter. Took me back to so many train rides. It's one of the great ways to travel--but your poem also makes for a nice metaphor, too. Life is kind of a train ride. I love the image of watching things going by in the small window, and towns, people, places being gone before we can even apprehend or understand them. Very cool.