We hear the train rumble into the station
as we stand around the bed
that cradles the 90-year-old-woman
whom we call wife, mother, sister, friend.

The wailing of the whistle
signals the train has stopped.
We glance at one another:
Is this an arrival or a departure?

I imagine the angel of death stepping from the train,
or the angel of revelation, or the angel of release.
Or are we simply to bundle her into the chair
and wheel her out to the platform?

We stand in confused tenderness
feeling the engine's muscular heart
throb beneath our feet.

Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.