Sometimes I think that Jesus must have been on the train.
—Lost Property auctioneer
Who left them and how did they walk down
the long platform at Reading or at Slough?
Did they abandon their trusty wheelchairs
or throw down their crutches and take the stairs
unaided for the first time in years, then hop
into a waiting van and say, “Let’s shop
for dancing shoes at McMurray’s
on the way?” Did they arrive and hurry
up the nursing-home drive shouting, “I’m out of here!
Pack up my stuff and buy everyone a beer
on me?” Travel is a marvel, I know,
but how could they up and out on their own
without braces or canes, not noticing they walked
without walkers, leaving passengers to talk
of miracles or fraud, and why didn’t they
telephone to get their trophies and say
“I’ve got to explain,” and “Who was that nice conductor
who came to my aid and helped me off the floor
and said ‘Walk and fall no more,’ and were
there any witnesses so I can be sure
of this business? Mind you, I don’t mean to complain,
though while I’m on the line I’ll mention the train
was more than forty-five minutes late.”
It’s hard to win when the world knows you’ll fail—
Did even one return to thank British Rail?
Listen to an interview with Michael F. Suarez, S.J.
