The Refugees on the Train are looking at empty fields. The windows—mirrors of fear. What would you give away today? Restlessness, disbelief. Stop ordering foolish things for a year while everything they own is in that bag. What can you give up today? What can you go without? The day is tilting towards unabated angst, the blithe indifference of forgetting. The refugees on the train watch their children with hair like sunflowers playing on the floor and if you ever lost somebody if you know the taste of despair, think of the refugees on the train dodging fate, begging for renewal. They live in the liminal space between borders, between countries in a town of hopelessness, history tied to their ankles, poverty tied to their wrists. If you long for your father, give in his name. If you haven’t seen your mother in a while, give in her name. Turn your grief into giving, your guilt into generosity— the day will come when you, too, will arrive at the gate. ////// Lucia Cherciu is the author of five books of poetry, including Train Ride to Bucharest (Sheep Meadow Press, 2017), which was the winner of the Eugene Paul Nassar Poetry Prize. Her work was nominated three times for a Pushcart Prize and twice for Best of the Net. Her web page is http://luciacherciu.webs.com.
Lightwood 
How deftly and poignantly Lucia has nailed the plight of the refugee and our lives examined next to theirs. Kudos!
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