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Just walking down the railroad tracks
still observing
but never searching
still watching
and when I say:
"Who's calling please", the lines of
the telephone company
reach - the lines range
and run
across our country
and the trains still take our
loved ones
across those miles
to Fort Hood
where mother rode
to Florida
where great grandmother
traveled - 1906
dirt-road
not graveled
and
the many years of railroad service
ran across those ties
the 'ties that bind'
yet the ties that were 'broke'
were the backs
of the many immigrants
who from 5/16/1846
had to struggle
to fix
those miles of routes
so we could ride
those broken and gnarled hands
and their weathered skin
could never hide
and no one was there
as the rain was falling
No phones answered their call
No one said:
"Whom shall I say is calling?"
and
the many years of railroad service
ran across those ties
the 'ties that bind'
yet the ties that were 'broke'
were the backs
of the many immigrants
who from 5/16/1846
had to struggle
to fix
those miles of routes
so we could ride
those broken and gnarled hands
and their weathered skin
could never hide
and no one was there
as the rain was falling
No phones answered their call
No one said:
"Whom shall I say is calling?"
