When time stopped I still carried the hope of moving with eyelids too tired to carry new baggage when I finally sleep in an attempt to shut out all that’s new or reset this body I wake up to an old day an old year and I am glued to bed not sure if inertia is a lack of direction or waiting to be saved. Not sure what it means to remain still when it feels like there’s nothing that remains.

the railroads keep track of all you’ve lost on the way
that one time you carried the sorrow of an entire village but forgot to pack your feet
or the time you emptied the cupboards
haboba always said you can never use what you display

the railroads keep track of all you’ve traded on the way
remember the acceleration of your dreams picking up speed of legs racing one
another and a child between your feet believing you’re a motorcycle
how do you break the cycle if all you do is jump tracks?

the railroads listen and talk back but they are not a home. there was this
one time I was your most familiar place to revisit and maybe I’m not
a destination but maybe our nomadic souls are meant to jump all the tracks together

the railroads know of people like us moulded out of dirt roads and brokenness of
thin skin and ductile hearts and words left unsaid
haboba always said you can never use what you display so I empty
the cupboards and make room for all the letters that may never arrive

there was this one time the railroads couldn’t withstand the burdens
of your journey maybe in this makeshift there is space for all
our baggage so you can travel light or for the cupboards to remain
empty as everything comes undone and the.. patience to unpack

the railroads do not know what drives the engine or the release in our collide
& maybe there’s more to belonging than our belongings and maybe it’s in your eyes

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