We’ve featured a poem from Laura Viau before, and we’re glad to feature her again. We’re also excited to tell you that we’ll be bringing you more regular contributions from her over the next few months. Welcome (again) Laura. We’re so glad you’re here with us.
They Say
It sounds like a train
in the same way unfamiliar meat tastes like chicken
the familiar- yet not – sound fills the sky
that just moments before was eerily silent
perhaps pierced by sirens
or maybe muffled a bit by surrounding rain
the clouds are eerie
all swirly and lumpy the way Van Gogh saw the sky
only green and forbodeing
unnaturally low overhead and on the horizon
undulating as if pregnant with angry energy
that escapes in hissing rain or lightning
it sounds like a train
the metal cars groaning and popping
and wheels squealing as they grind into the tracks
the engine’s low thrum
and the whistle stuck in the open position
a train would be more welcome
than wind whirling in a tantrum
raging out of control with no one to soothe it
shoving mailboxes and cars about like toys
kicking over houses like sand castles on a beach
the pleas and cries of those in its path
mixing with the twisting metal and splintering wood
It sounds like a train
pulling away from the station, an occasional horn blast drifting back
easy enough to follow its path of destruction,
small random gaps of wholeness
too rare in utter chaos
and no straight lines to the future
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Laura Viau
Laura is a word nerd, bear collector, musician, movie buff and Whovian who also happens to be called to ministry. She mostly writes sermons but plays with poetry and storytelling, too. She blogs way too infrequently these days at The Viau From Here.