Ana Karenina steps under an oncoming train to her death. From Tolstoy’s Novel of the same name….

Ana Karenina steps under an oncoming train to her death. 

From Tolstoy’s Novel of the same name…. 

 

 

The eyes the eyes 

all those eyes -

staring blankly through

me as though not reviled

but worse - invisible  

Impossible - 

Once inconceivable 

His eyes – Those eyes

that flashed capturing

the world in each 

indelible look and now

“What am I doing?’

Recall, the worker – 

that worker crushed 

under wheels as we 

and they watched so 

long ago, long before 

we danced, or loved, 

or fell together in hell

or heaven wrought 

passion that eclipsed all

passion unstoppable

blazing in consummated

conflagration into love

Love, that lit the universe of

my soul and held me

wiling captive – so long

So long ago signifier worker fell

in sacrificial warning supreme  

Writ  this time – of death

in his blood 

As I step from this 

platform of misery alone

the familiar rush, push

Whoosh of the train 

The gentle train, the

vehicle of my love, my life

Step from this platform and

Into the arms of death as the

worker beckoned – leap finally

to be free -I step this final step 

and in the shimmer of mysticism

In the foretelling of engine smoke, 

the veil lifts ironically clears

and I already falling - fall in 

abject clarity exposing me 

to myself -prisoner of irrevocable 

action once again …

too late to reverse the running wheels…

Wonder…

“Where am I?”

“What am I doing?”

“What for”