The baggage we arrived with roots us
we try to walk away, leave it behind
yet our wrists are handcuffed to the handles and
the handles are made of thick solid steel
the luggage weighs us down to the spot.
People on the platform hurry by and never seem to notice
at least they never stop to ask why we’re standing here
they’re too busy with their own concerns
they push past us like we’re invisible, insignificant.
We watch the trains come and go, while over the speakers
we hear destinations listed, platform numbers announced
we watch the clock change at an alarming rate
day turns to night and the platform is a ghost town
still, we stand here hunched over our baggage.
Seasons change and still we’re stood in the self-same position
weather beaten, frozen in winter, blue from the cold
thawing out in spring, sunburnt in summer
collecting the shit of passing birds on our shoulders
like statues of long dead heroes
the only constant here is us.
We’re waiting here all this time for the keys to the handcuffs
to set down our burden once and for all
to wander free of this open prison of guilt, regret and worry
but our keys are in the suitcases we hold
Locked under a combination code that we can’t crack.
We can’t remember how we made it to the platform in the first place
the luggage is too big too heavy to shift on our own
did somebody help us?
they must have grown tired of carrying our dead-weight,
if they left us here.
Why leave us on a platform?
with so many destinations to choose
so many journeys we can’t make
to watch other people, get on and off with ease
watching trains arrive and trains leave.
We never consider the content of the baggage
grows heavier, the more we put it out of our mind
tears well up in our eyes, we ache from the burden of all this stillness
a child passing on the platform, loses hold of a balloon on a string
all we can do is watch it drift away, weightlessly.