Train Ride To Hope

by J. Joy "Sistah Joy" Matthews Alford

A 7:30 A.M. train ride

Inaugurated by a commemorative fare card

Bearing the likeness of a man

Who believed in hope and change

Maybe the time had come

For a nation whose yesterday

Spurned right at its own peril

A nation that, despite dreams and visions

Proclaimed before broad witness in light of day

Rejected truth 'til civil disarray

Dictated that only change could counter catastrophe

Perhaps this would be the train ride

To usher that nation

To the dawn of a new day

A sea of humanity

Like ants, satellite images would depict dots

Blurred into huddles to become muddled masses

I was proud to be one of the millions

Despite knowing I had neither ticket nor hope of

Seeing anything more than a jumbotron

I trudged on

Under the 3^rd Street tunnel

Loosing, early in the day, Beverly and Jayne,

My comrades in arms

But I moved on

This is my hometown, I know this place

Placing phone calls of reassurance

When intermittent phone service allowed

I pressed on

Moving from one undesignated

Vantage point to another

Both the Blue Gate and

   the Silver Capital Viewing Area

Were inaccessible

But how could they close The Mall

…The entire National Mall?

But my guardian angels were on it!

Like the pride, yearning and desperate belief

Of all who withstood the frigid cold

Even the batteries of Chicky’s hand-held

Neon orange radio knew not to fade

Sylvia’s ungloved hand must have been frozen,

As she held the small prize just above our heads

Standing behind me Jasmine asked if I could

Move just a bit to the side

So she too could hear

We each prayed for a clear signal

Sylvia said a glove would restrict digital dexterity

As she deftly rotated the dial with precision 

Not chancing to miss a single word

That would mark this moment in history

So it was to be

This anointed neon orange electronic device

Clearly appointed by Divine providence

To appear next to me

Whether held in Sylvia’s hand or God’s

Did the job of unseen jumbotrons   

The four of us fellowshipped and communed

We were from DC, Colorado and Texas

Sisters of different generations and races

Silently sharing tears as Aretha sang

Sharing hugs and hopes as we listened

To introductions, oaths and speeches

Believing the words we heard

On a small radio would take us

Beyond Metro stops, Malls and trains

Knowing that, on this day,

Hope had transported a people

To a place where they believed

That the time for change had come