Credits to Khaya

As I stand on the 23rdStreet station,

On the thin yellow strip at the edge of the platform,

Inches away from the speeding train,

Getting closer to me every second,

With its strong but blurry “E” inscribed in a circle,

Which while perfect, looks quadrupled,

And the two small, yellow lights shine brightly in my eyes,

Nearly blinding me as I look down below the train operator’s window;

 

I think to myself,

This is the start of my journey,

The start of my journey on this fine morning,

The first of many trains I will ride on today,

The first of many platforms I will stand on today,

The first of many train operators I will look at today,

The first of many experiences I will have today,

And the first of many memories I will make today;

 

But it most certainly isn’t the start of the journey,

For many others,

Who have been riding on this train for a while today,

Or on other trains today,

Or on both this and other trains,

And possibly even many others after this one;

 

And for some,

It may even be the end of the journey for the day,

Having gone from station to station,

Through a plethora of tunnels and bridges,

They are exhausted,

Waiting for the end of this journey,

But understanding that tomorrow the cycle will repeat;

 

But whether it is the start of one’s journey,

Or the middle of one’s journey,

Or the end of one’s journey,

We are all here together,

On this platform,

On this train,

In this borough,

And in this city;

 

And whatever happens,

We will be there for each other,

Even if we don’t see eye to eye,

We are New Yorkers,

And we are in this together,

In this train,

In this city,

In this life.