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Beyond The Treely Train Station

Last updated on March 6th, 2016 at 01:05 am

by Aidan Wirshing


Come up from the south, I did
The train couldn’t stop hooting and swaying me side to side
I figure I was just along for the ride
I had some tobacco chewed in my mouth, I did.

My legs kinda hung over the box car’s opening
I traveled alone, always have
But I don’t mind it much, never have
I learn more about where we’re all going, about the beginning.

The train rattles off back and forth on the tracks breaking the silence of the night
It’s always hard to sleep, so I don’t, I instead look at the stars, they bounce around
Disappearing and reappearing behind the smoke of the engine. A pound,
That’s all I got left of my potatoes, they nourish me enough, it’s alright.

Daylight does shine it’s way into every morning
It’s always comforting, reassuring really
The train always makes it’s first stop in Treely
The people there are fine, but there’s no light and they’re always mourning

People wait at the train station, never for a train
But for something else, something more
I watch from my box car tower, it often hurts me at the core
hour by hour the weather changes from bone dry to wet rain.

The women push up their umbrellas like flowers blossoming to the life giving rain
I think they beg for tears from other than their ducts
So their prayers of sympathy are answered, they are fragile hens, their feathers plucked
Their men have died, or traveled on, I cannot bear to look upon their pain.

The train pressed on, leaving the widows and wanderers to their wailing
I don’t spite them, I just spit my chaw at ’em, hoping it’ll at least make’m laugh
Back to swaying, did I commence, the train rocking me back and forth like in it’s womb I was a calf
Never did I have to feel the weight of the world and all it’s sins that kept it spinning

I was a carpenter, never any good
I couldn’t carve anything, my hands were never meant for creating
I was never someone others took kindly to waiting
Hell, I’d bet a pile of feathers could carve more outta me then I could carve wood

Never met my father, heard he was something
My mother she, she was beautiful and for sure she was something
And I, I used to be nothing, nothing!
But I left that behind, I come up from the south
And I’m goin’ beyond Treely Station!

I’ll be something soon
For now, I trust the tracks, they’re set like stone
They’re taking me North, so I’ll relax, I cannot fear what is unknown
I’ve heard my train’ll get in between somewhere and the moon.