Poetry
Into the Darkness
I am a passenger on a train.
I sit on a chair of crushed red velvet
that has already formed to another body.
The pine trees outside
blend together into strips of
light green and dark.
I grip my whiskey drink
as the brakes of the train squeal.
Into the darkness, we go.
I am an attendant on a train.
I push a cart of drinks
that doesn’t belong to me.
I hand them out to people
who don’t need them.
The images outside the window blur.
The brakes on the train scream
for mercy, as I take my seat in the back.
Into the darkness, we go.
I am the engineer of a train.
I pull on the handle of the brakes
that I’m not in charge of.
I place my feet on either side
and resist with all my strength.
The colors outside now become one.
The front of the train has disappeared
as I tighten my grip on the brake.
Into the darkness, we go.
The sound of their heels thundering down the hallway,
woke you before the light was shown in your eyes.
Followed by the commands, “Get up and get dressed”.
You put on your dress, the one that they let you keep.
You fixed your hair, the best you could in the dark.
And helped your mother with hers.
Even though you were captive, you had to be presentable.
They led you down the hallways and to the basement.
And told you to pose for a picture.
Evidence that you were still alive.
You stood in your normal position.
Mother and brother in front, seated.
Your father behind them.
You and your three sisters off to the left.
Your four servants to the right.
This was not an occasion to smile.
They came out of the door, with guns in hand.
You stared into the eyes of the ones that once bought protection.
Your sister’s arm rose to form the sign of the cross.
But failed before the first shots were fired.
The smoke came from the guns
and the sparks from your jewels.
That were sewn into your corsets.
They questioned your Divine right,
as you survived the bullets and bayonets.
But watched you fall as the guns
were pressed against your head.
