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Personal Note:

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Poem

We clambered on board the train, 
amidst the heat and jostling bodies scrambling in humid air 
that swirled about us. Chatter, noise, whistles 
and barks of laughter. As laconic guards look on 
with impassive and seen it all faces. 
Our fellow travellers carry lives with them, 
grease stained paper parcels tied with string, 
fresh killed chickens with legs tied and salted, 
strong smelling meats and spice leavened bread. 
One man appears to carry his whole garden produce 
with him, leaving his wife to struggle with 
impatient and excited, melting doe eyed children. 
We have tickets that entitle us to seats, 
yet I feel a tinge of envy, as young agile men 
clamber, loose limbed onto the top of the train. 
There is chaos, yet amongst it, there is also 
order. I watch my fellow passengers exchanging 
lightening chatter, their quick silver approach to 
life and all its viscitudes exhaled like smoke 
through careless stained teeth. 
Our travels pass with men sitting on the dusty 
floors, sharing jokes and making bargains, as 
patient wives are left to admonish and administer 
mothering upon numerous children, who seem part of a 
group, not a separate family unit. 
The smell of sweat and spice, hangs like a smog on 
the atmosphere, permeating hair and clothing. 
Months later I take a silk scarf, left forgotten in 
the bottom of my rucksack. 
I stare at lush greenness as grey drizzle falls. Breathe deeply, 
taking in yet again, that heady, 
heavy scent of travellers dreams. 
There are journeys that you remember, 
and some that you forget.

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