The Loneliness of the Last
Always exposed, never sharing the comfort
of between, you see only the departed
diminishing with each second’s passage, blurring,
shrinking, and finally blinking out, all points
erased in the null, an eye closing in the tunnel.
Or, inhaling the fragrance of an unseen orange
grove filtered through coal and thick, black
coils, you accept the limits of possibility,
known only by edges flowing past, lost
to touch and forever beyond reach in the draft
of the inadmissible. Departure defines
you. What lies ahead is not yours to embrace.
* * *
“The Loneliness of the Last” was published as a mini-broadside by ELJ Editions in February 2017.
“Trem Abandonado” by Rafael Vianna Croffi
(https://www.flickr.com/photos/rvc/29472173566)
O at the Edges 
The image of a rail car is a perfect pairing for this. I imagine it receding, as all around it is drawn by its draft to reach for an essence that is unattainable.
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There are many days like that!
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Sort of like seasons without birth dates.
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Ha. Yes.
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Lonely indeed, in form and content.
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O trains. O people!
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Very affecting, thankful for your artistry Robert.
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Thanks very much, Diana.
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Desolate!
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These lonely trains!
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I know! Is there anything more lonesome sounding than a train whistle?
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Especially in the middle of a cold winter night.
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DEATH BEAUTIFULLY AND SUBTLY CAPTURED IN A FEW WELL-CHOSEN WORDS. AT 76, I THINK MORE EACH DAY OF MY OWN
DIMINISHING.
WHEN JESUS CAME TO JOHN THE BAPTIST TO BE
BAPTIZED OF HIM IN THE JORDAN RIVER, JOHN SAID, “HE MUST
INCREASE AND I MUST DECREASE” (BE DIMINISHED – TO THE POINT OF DEATH BY KING HEROD’S HANDS.)
THANKS FOR SHARING YOUR INTELLECT AND SPIRIT WITH ALL
OF YOUR READERS.
RON
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Thanks, Ron. I’m so pleased to be able to share.
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Felt like the feeling one would have when he would be left alone and all the ones he loved and cared had departed this world.
Sad but true feelings. It’s a beautiful poem.;
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Life often feels like one long departure…
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“Departure defines you…” is still my favorite line of this piece. I find comfort in the assurance of purpose here, despite the nature of that purpose.
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Now that I think of it, that sort of describes my childhood. Always leaving the familiar behind. Here, then gone.
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Wow. Those departures were definitely formative for you. I’m not sure why I detect more of a tone of acceptance than resignation, though. Hmm…
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Probably because that tone exists. It was the way things were. We moved on. That was the lifestyle.
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I love the way these lines break: “… inhaling the fragrance of an unseen orange / / grove.” The pause and the music of it.
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Thank you, Alli. I do love playing with line breaks. 🙂
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Wow, that is awesome. When I saw the title it reminded me of a news item I saw by a doctor who reported on the words of an elderly patient. “There’s one in the world that I know.” My best friend just died and there’s no one else that I know. But instead your poem is about the concerns, experiences, emotions of an inanimate object. An interesting pair of shoes to step into, you did it wonderfully. Thank you.
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Thanks, Jeni. Sometimes I just start rolling down those tracks… 🙂
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Reblogged this on On Buddhism and commented:
What lies ahead
is
not yours to embrace.
A dark silo appears,
behind ‘t,
the sun’s ablaze.
I close my eyes,
then squint
to let the rays be my light,
leave behind
a shadow to be consumed
by
the luminous stardust.
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Thanks for reblogging, and for sharing.
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