Arrivals

Cold-platform standing,
silent tears, stinging
from the brisk walk-by of him,
him, like the others;
misuse-me men
that I’ve given my heart to
for a lifetime of years,
without their understanding
or mine.

I let them go by as they’ve pleased,
giving each one many chances,
this trip, another trip,
always the same,
while I try to brace
against the freezing breeze
of their coattails
blowing past me,

leaving me,
holding my tattered sign,
leaving me,
shrinking back into my lonely,
leaving me,
disappearing in the bustling silence
of being ignored.

There they go
greeting another,
or heading off on their own,
while I comfort myself
that this is still
the right place to wait.

What kind of girl would I be
if I chased him or the others,
insisting they open their hearts
to travel with me?

It isn’t the first time
I’ve waited this way,
believing I’ll be seen,
if I wait long enough,
turning my back
on other arrivals
clambering for my attention.

I keep my hope warm
telling myself this time,
like all the others,
was just a cold miss.

My hope has always kept me
standing there,
until today,
until now,
until this very moment,
when I realize how near
to freezing I am.

As I vigorously rub the frost
from my heart
my attention is drawn
and my eyes are wide-opened
to a blinding truth
that’s been waiting
a lifetime for me to see;

I haven’t found
my fulfilling connection,
because I’ve been
standing on a platform
that only brings in
steely cold arrivals;

misuse-me men
like him, and the others
it’s taken me until now
to turn my back on,
smart enough finally
to let them,
and their coattails
breeze by.

I am pleased to arrive
at this truth,
still strong enough
to head off
on a trip of my own,
where I imagine finding him,
not like the others,
him, a warm, loving man
who has waited his own lifetime
and stands ready to travel
with an open-hearted girl like me.

~ cj 2013.08.05