The long train
The station lights go out on the railway platform.
I grope to the notice board. I can see nothing, but
The timetable feels torn. It´s raining, the north wind´s
reeking with chlorine. The previous train swept through.
A man in the diner raised his wineglass to his lips
and smiled. My brother!
An hour goes by, then another, maybe a whole day, till
a long ghost train clatters out of the darkness:
a line of black waggons with shuttered windows,
like a parade of cattle for slaughter and zinc coffins.
Someone shouts: ‘Reality!’
The brakes shriek.
Somewhere everything ends.
Yesterday Venus went blue,
and now it´s glowing red.
I brace myself for the worst:
the smell of death, cries of pain.
And then a strong hand
reaches out of the dark. Before I realize it,
I´m sitting on the straw. The train speeds up.
I´m bathed in a shippen warmth
I recall from childhood. I feel good.
It´s not I choosing the terminus
we´re heading for.
Silence. The heavens open here too.
Strange constellations are sparkling, two moons
circle a planet. There´s breath on my face,
someone´s pressing on my shoulder. I feel surer
than I was born that before the execution
we´ll be granted hope.