take the reins

the train is delayed and I sit dormant on the tracks. on the speaker they blame the complication on another train and assure us we’ll be moving soon. I hear the frustrated shouting and the thuds of kicking from a child too old to be causing such a scene in public. the carriage is deaf to the tantrum. we scroll on our phones and look empty out the windows in clothes we chose for others to admire. I watch a video of a child explaining why he sleeps on the grave of his mother in a land stolen by those who killed her in an air strike. on a city of tents they dropped bombs made just a few stations down the line. the boy says he visits the grave every day because he misses her so much and to be near her is to feel safe. 

at the store I listen to a lady talk about cocktails and how much she misses the emerald dress she wore through summer when she was young. on the street someone asks for change and I have no coins to give. guilt is a weight I can’t shrug off. I walk unchanged into tomorrow: breathing and unwilling to take the reins. at night I pray for change and maybe something else to say.