NeuroDivine

The bank holiday has come round,
And others gladly roam;
But I rise in the lightened dawn
And leave the peace of home.

The usual train no longer runs,
Its place is bare and still;
An hour before my proper time,
I climb the station hill.

Again it is a Monday morn,
Again the waiting chair;
Near four long hours of measured time
And humming, filtered air.

Yet without this appointed work
No future feast I'd see;
No bank holiday yet to come
Would hold a place for me.

The travellers pass with easy plans
For family, rest, and play;
But all my thoughts are set upon
The trains that shape my day.

And if I miss the evening one
At half-past five's brief call,
Two further hours must then be spent
Before I’m home at all.

So others bless the holiday,
Its freedom and its cheer;
I mark the gaps between the trains
And count the minutes here.

O God, who knows the weary road,
And waits beside the rail,
Walk with me through these altered hours
When strength and patience fail.

Then may the chair that holds me fast
Hold also life anew,
And every bank holiday I reach
Find me still held by You.