Strange to think of people gone 
on a day such as this. 
As walking I go, breathing to heaven 
with all the other moving souls 
filing into into the lamp lit station,
A thick procession of winter coats
like mourners at a funeral keeping 
a grand silence between us.
Are the dead looking down at us?
Ferrying terminal to terminal
in the lonely rattling dark
running circular with our flawed thoughts,
what’s new to say today? 
Except perhaps there is too much talk
or maybe not enough,
that everybody is looking to alleviate
the burden of their loneliness,
really everybody wants to be loved
or at least recognised
for how tired they’ve become.
That’s how it is,
we’re all pulling and pushing
in the burden of our longing,
All wanting to both be and be apart from the world.
While all around we greet the evidence of our loss,
in every turned newspaper, 
men lost from women
men lost from themselves,
widening the gap  
between the public expression 
and the private utterance.
Is this how we wave goodbye to one another?
goodbye to truth? and goodbye to the world?
Clinging to the rails, 
station to station,
terminal to terminal,
keeping our silence, 
journeying into the dark.

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