the strangeness of transport

The strangeness of transport
Eerie voices speaking to the ruins of
Once golden hills turned brown
By arid blazing summer suns

Streaming parallel with hurried brake lights
Humans scurrying to half-hearted dinner tables

She wonders if she's partial to the tepid
Torn with angst from fluid sea shores
Fear creeps in for what comes next

Memories of being sprawled deep and dark at the bottom of a sharp crevasse
Staring blankly at meager sprouting hope
Helpless to her own tendency to unload heavy weights from the backs of others and carry them
As if they were her own

Unwittingly faith leads to the opposite end
Of a five minute tunnel
Waiting winding worded worry
Watching the light turn green
To trigger the spring

Engaging
The tools gathered
Slotted spoons for draining
The despair from sparkling eyes

Her name bears her with the mark of spontaneity
Maybe chicken maybe egg
Settled in what she's seen
Yet gripping for reassurance in the middle of long nights

--7/15/15
   jitana