I have
stood on these train tracks,
A
portal to the past
To
the place where I grew up
Where
bullies laid me flat
I
have looked through the pane
And
seen where I have been,
Time
itself a blur to me
Amid
the forest green
I
have travelled many miles
Over
weeds near fallen trees,
Through
stations of the cross,
Found
light in tunnels deep
I
stand here again
But
the train no longer runs;
I
pick the berries from the bush,
The
thorns and thistles, shun
---
October 11, 2017
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