Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Chosen

The Chosen

The line goes on forever
standing in the drifts
holding what’s left
of their lives
in frozen hands
against shivering bodies.

Merely a spectre and spectator alone
against the boxcars
I watch them shuffle
torn shoes not withstanding
against the snow
worn coats a worthless shield
and caps of no use against the wind

Trains come and go
but the line is eternally longer
coming from the gray storm
leading only to darkness
snapping dogs, boots, and
machine guns keep it moving

Their eyes tell them
what their mind rejects
The trains are arrivals only
there will be no departures

There are young
and old
some were rich
but nothing matters now

Pasts varied
and every walk a different one
but that which is same
is the tie that binds them to destiny
manifest
in the yellow star
upon the torn coats
and thin sleeves
of those with fearful eyes

I watch as they go
Only ashes await.