I have a homing instinct for the stars
Tired railway sleepers
From long disappeared lines,
Shoring up the earth in
My vertical garden.
In the frozen small hours,
Do your fibres vibrate
In time to the rhythm
Of the five o’clock train
Heading South to Nivelles
Or distant Charleroi?
Tired railway sleepers
From up lines and down lines,
From shunting yards and sheds
In the back of beyond,
From bridges and cuttings,
Tunnels and viaducts,
Do you still groan under
The weight of ghost wagons
with frail human cargoes,
Transported to God knows
What final solution?
February 1995
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
Thank you!
On Thu, 27 Jan 2022, 17:35 I have a homing instinct for the stars, wrote:
> Smith.je posted: ” ” >
That’s really poignant. Thank you Aidan.
Thank you for this multiple memory in this poem. Firstly, dear Aiden and all we’ve shared. Secondly, all our Jewish friends, for whom this memorial day touches in their remembered lost ones … vast ranks of absentees in their family trees, and lastly, that much used railway, which still rumbles past your old home here. Always with much love, Julia
On Thu, 27 Jan 2022, 18:35 I have a homing instinct for the stars, wrote:
> Smith.je posted: ” ” >
I remember coaching a young Jewish friend for part of her Bat Mitzvah. She had to read out loud. As she explained the ceremony, she showed me her family tree. There were so many people missing from the times of the pogroms, labour camps and gas chambers. I have never forgotten that and remember it and her every Holocaust Memorial Day.
On Thu, 27 Jan 2022, 18:35 I have a homing instinct for the stars, wrote:
> Smith.je posted: ” ” >