NeuroDivine

Before the hour of seven strikes,
I walk to catch the train;
The morning dark is cold and still,
No threat or hint of rain.

The autumn wind moves through the trees,
The stars shine clear and bright;
And high above the waking world
Stands Orion in the night.

No moon is seen as dawn begins
To edge the east with gold;
I wonder how our fathers judged
The passing hours of old.

A watch is fastened to my arm,
A phone rests in my hand;
While station lights shine through the dark
And mark my journey's end.

Their brightness dims the stars from sight,
Yet still they keep their place;
Unmoved above the works of men,
They run their changeless race.

Though human lamps outshine them now
Along the platform way,
The stars remain beyond our sight,
As night proceeds to day.

The train arrives, the world awakes,
Its countless labours nigh;
Orion keeps still his ancient watch
Beneath God's silent sky.

Reflection

I wrote this poem as I walked to the station before seven, on my way to a haematology appointment in Tullamore. An MGUS diagnosis a couple of years ago means regular monitoring. It is not currently troubling me, but there is a weariness in having yet another medical appointment: another journey, another waiting room, another part of the day organised around health.

Writing as I walked was a way of calming myself. I noticed the cold air, the clear stars, and Orion above the waking town. Finding words and letting them fall into a rhythm gave my attention somewhere to rest. For those few minutes, there was room to notice more than the appointment ahead.

At the station, the lights made the stars harder to see. They were still there. That small observation became the quiet centre of the poem, and perhaps of the morning’s prayer: what slips beyond our sight has not necessarily left us.

Sometimes prayer begins with looking up. This morning, it took the shape of a poem composed on the way to a train, helping me arrive a little calmer, beneath a sky that held more than my concerns.

© Michael McFarland Campbell, 2026. NDP-0091