Poem for Today - Holy Saturday - April 19, 2014
After you board the train, you sit and wait,
to begin your first real journey alone.
You read to avoid the window's awkwardness,
knowing he's anxious to catch your eye,
loitering out in never-ending rain,
to wave, a bit shy, another final goodbye;
you are afraid of having to wave too soon.
And for the moment you think it's the train
next to you has begun, but it is yours,
and your face, pressed to the windowpane,
is distorted and numbed by the icy glass,
pinning your eyes upon your father,
as he cranes to defy your disappearing train.
Both of you waving, eternally to each other.
(c) Greg Delanty, Southward