Getting Off the Train
When I was a child I sat between my parents on the train.
Dad was on my right next to the window,
And my mother was on the aisle, holding my hand.
They were my whole world
And everything I knew ended at the next seat back.
The years passed, and my world enlarged
To include my aunt three rows ahead in her flowered hat,
And the conductor with his brass buttons and shiny ticket punch.
I could see the whole car now
And glimpse the world rushing along outside the window.
Now I’m older still and we walk through the station,
With crowds of people from other trains.
There are sights and sounds, languages and smells
That do not remind me of home.
Where are all these people going?
What do they see outside their train windows?
Today I walk along a city street
Full of tall buildings and green parks.
Bustling sidewalks in a world that teems with life.
And I remember when I thought the whole world
Was contained in a single row of seats
In a single car
On a single train.
How small our worlds would be
If we did not recognize that we are all connected.
Life doesn’t end with our seat row (family),
Or our train car (tribe),
Or our train itself (nation).
No, not even at the central station,
Or that one city that is my personal destination.
We must see that all the trains reach their stops,
That every family gets home safely,
That every child sharing a seat with his parents
Is just one of us on the train.
Copyright © Robert Grappel | Year Posted 2016
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