Ramadan Day 25 – On My Way


“The feeling remains that God is on the journey, too.”

– St. Theresa of Ávila

*

FullSizeRender

*

Sometime

it don’t matter who you are

loneliness just come up n grab you

like a best friend

– Ruth Forman

*

The way some wings appear.

The old house is yellowed.  The spikes on the tire shop’s fence glisten.

Abandoned lots, fake fir on a telephone pole, 26 ambulances in a parking lot, a tractor conquering its mound of dirt.

Sights on the train ride from New Brunswick to New York Penn Station.

I feel so calm because I don’t have to be anywhere.  I don’t have to go anywhere.  I’m not running late.

Suppose I was running late.  Now I can’t go anywhere anyway, or go any faster.

The sun on my lap is warm like a cat.  The leather seat is smooth.

No rush, I tell myself, to discern the meaning of Ramadan.

But Newark Penn is arriving soon, then New York Penn.  I heard it on the speaker and was confused again.

It’s the same way I hear Code Blue from the waiting room.

It’s the same way I hear I don’t want to speak to you anymore.

It’s the same way I hear my own sweet voice rise:  Don’t you even remember me?  It’s me, dad.  It’s me, Serena.

It’s always time to transition, always time to move past this Ramadan.  Haven’t we bemoaned how hard it was? Haven’t we fasted long enough?

Conventional wisdom grows in force 4 days from Eid.  But the concrete high rise is turreted even though inside it is a bank.

The switch lights look like demons with crimson eyes. The overhang is sagging in the middle. Beware, the orange cones are totally jumbled.

I want to stay on this train and not go back, nor forward.

You can’t possibly know what I’m like when I’m desperate.

That’s when I’m my most sad.  I have no good reasons.

Some people are like that side of the tracks.

The Passaic’s water is shadows beneath steel and beneath its surface is more silt.

The track wires are never enclosed but hang like string. Come along now, before a train heads in the opposite direction.

I never speak to Ramadan like a lover except on the train.

Will you stay the night?

I’ll hold you.

I hear you.

I love you too.

On the train, I don’t worry about arrival.  That way the stop is a surprise.


Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: