Travel and the broken journey.

The deserted station
The deserted station

Waiting at the Station.

All these faces of no connection passing
quickly through on their way somewhere.
Sometimes we see things in the window,
not realising they are reflections
until the light changes or the curtains close
and we realise we are on the outside looking in.
You can catch yourself this way, looking beautiful,
just before the ravages of the day.
It is a moment for the real person to be seen,
before we are shattered, everyone and no one.

6 thoughts on “Travel and the broken journey.

  1. Hey there, JIm:

    ‘Shattered’ is percussive and should produce splintered chards of that too true glimpse … what is held onto, what can be gathered and reclaimed … stuff that produces this poem; the moment you’re aiming at is the dispersing of reflection or that shift of our attention to the now – resurfacing from imagination, wonder and possibility, that return to active, forefront thinking and engagement within the day. Perhaps go with observation of next action, next thought and beauty’s residue … something about shifting narratives from observer to what kind of participant (or perhaps role)? ‘Shattered’ works if you build on the result before leaving it; as it sits shattered feels like everything and that person whose voice we’re following breaks/crumbles … ideally when we connect with beauty we are strengthened, emboldened, sustained; beauty is divine treasure that helps us transcend current predicament … perhaps because it connects us with hope.

    Aim at narrative, scenario and truth ….

    Some thoughts. 😉


    1. The best response I think I have had to a piece of work here, thanks. Yes, the breaking up of the person as they travel. I see that reference to the time of day is maybe in order. The morning where heading in to become the worker, shedding the casual and putting on the clothes of the commute. Where the person has been lost to his job. The shattered reference comes from the tired lost look of many people I watched on the trains, resigned to what the day will bring, in the passing images of reflections and as they stand waiting at stations while I passed through. I was going in the opposite direction. I travel on the train because I can. All of these ideas plus the fact of heading back to my home town, the flashing image of my face in the train tunnels gone as fast as seen, Old ghosts, and new ones emerging from the way we live our life now. I find the isolation of travelling alone on a train very thought provoking, I am enlarging this work and like the idea of a percussive word, that to me throbs, has resonance and my idea was of sharpness, of the slicing of the self into old/new, lost/found, difficult to piece together or to rejoin to the person you aspire to be when so much of how we see the outside, is really our own prejudices and preformed or fixed ideas.

      Perhaps I am looking for that epiphany of the journey to complete the circle for myself, to connect with hope that the journey can bring? And truth, yes. Something that needs addressing here, I wasn’t seeing the beauty just then.

      Thanks again for putting your reading onto here.



  2. Glimpsing other’s beauty, catching self before engaging the day – reflection’s doppelganger, faces unaware – truer …. At day’s end, relieved, departing, somewhat ruined … what remnants of others’ beauty can be glimpsed?


    1. Thanks for visiting and the taking the time to give feedback, I appreciate it.

      This is a selection of ideas, testing them, seeing how they come together, trying to avoid the cliche etc. So maybe another look at the end for me, maybe less abrupt and negative?



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