‘Train Station Tear Tracks – On Trauma’

by Aaron Cawood

Lights up. The bench
at the train station;
we sit. Only, now,
in Act Two, I smile,
In spite of the crowd –
I feed the first line.

And because you are there,
I smile throughout the Act.
As, because you are there,
sirens pass in quiet.
And, because you are there,
memory melts like snow.
And, because you are there,
I just can’t explain it,
but I don’t have headaches
and people with backpacks
aren’t hiding bombs anymore.
In fact, they’re likely packed
with plants and butterflies
as my stomach, your eyes.

Trauma – noun; a deep distress
or a disturbing event.
A ringing bell in your head
splitting eardrums without cause
at a meaningless pin drop.
A scar; a burn; a tattoo.
A sealed, poison memory
unbending under all force.

But then, inexplicably, you.
And you tell me that you’re scared too.
Maybe it’s of different things, true.

But it’s enough.

Thank you for coping with
my train station tear tracks.
I’m glad to have helped with yours.
Please, reach out soon.
I want to travel by train again.

The Poor Print

The Oriel College Newspaper. Run by students, with contributions from the JCR, MCR, and SCR & Staff. Current Executive Editors: Tom Davy, Joanna Engle and Chris Hill

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