I am a poor wayfaring stranger
A wandring thru this vale of woe
But there’s no sickness, toil, or danger,
In that bright land to which I go.
I’m going there to see my mother,
I’m going there no more to roam;
I’m going over Jordan
I’m only going over home
from Kentucky he came to east Chicago railyard to work
he was gone
and at night after fourteen hour days
Gideon’s Bible and The Cheapest Wine warmed
body and soul sacred ceremony
in ramshackle bedbugnewspaperwalledbeersign neon hotel
within eyeshot of “the yard”
not far to lumber on frigid morn
early evening
thru the night
all night
the wind whispers cries sings
to her
and thru the cracks
of her attic walls
she listens she listens listens
and when the wind don’t blow
she turns an ear
to the voice coming to her
thru the stillness
thru the stillness of gnarled cedar and pine
blanketing like shrouds the old
grayweathered woodslatted farmhouse
nestled deep in this coalbarren wilderness
and she turns an ear
to the voice coming to her
thru the stillness
of cedar and pine
and thru the stillness
she turns and looks at his
gray railman’s hat hanging limp from 8penny nail on wormwood wall
his hat and railroad manual were all
he brought home the last time
but that first Christmas visit
he brought her a blue calico dress and red sweater with pearl buttons
carried on the train with gifts for all
he and they all proud
of him a man no longer boy
but always hard worker of farm and mine
in this pioneer Kentucky land
but now he returns again so soon unexpected
returns eternal
presence home for good his body
from east Chicago railyards he comes
his body crushed between coal cars coal
and like the bituminous gold shipped from Kentucky to foreign parts
he’s delivered by train
long wailing whistle signals his arrival
last stop of the L & N
and a year later frail tired torn
she drifts
thru tears
by candlelight she sees
she sees his spirit at top of attic stairs
at foot of her bed calming real
presence he moves closer reaching to her
his hand touches her forehead her eyes close finally
to deep dream sleep
Copyright © 1997-2008 Ron Whitehead