Dragging Dusk

I am sick of sunlight in the distance
dusked glows on the urban horizon
from Surrey, Westbound down town
SkyTrain nears the end
of its cemented line. In transit,
looking out the window
like that sunshine will be here. Soon.
Eventually. Yeah, fuckin’ okay.
I’m just tired of always being in it, y’know?
Rainy days and regressive moods,
that fuckin’ day-to-day, deadlines draw
closer like Eastbound to Scott Rd Station
and my train is always fucking late. Prepare
for another class, another Uhaul,
another kindling of hearth and hall—
SkyTrain simulation
separated from the land,
instant messages, phone calls, scheduling sequiturs—
seriously wondering where to rest my hyper-stimulated
headphones—I’d hang them up with my coat
but no hangers on transit. Damp dreams
of sunny days and I awake asthmatic, smoke
another cigarette, walk moulded frame hallways
to apartment rooftop and see
another day,
another misted cloud-roof, another goddamn dusk
shining away in the distance and I’m still in it.
Rituals of coping,
videogames or mental health days
from work or missed messages, stressed strings
of desperate Facebook statuses. On the phone,
at home, in bed, on my walk to train,
in between Nanaimo and Commercial/Broadway,
I start to wonder if chronic pain is giving rise
in crick crack, neck crack, knuckle crack,
unsatisfied snap—please don’t let it be that.
Weather passes down
intergenerational trauma stored
in my bones, tendons strained
by hypertension. I’m reminded to keep track
of my blessin’s, take stock of the lessons,
cut the bus-loop, change direction. If the dusk
drags down shimmering light in the distance,
I’m only in it
for as long as I stay stationary, repeating
transit cycle, 56km, two river crossings
from Downtown to Newton and back. I seek
a sunrise I must fly to find. Either steel hawk
or peregrin falcon—

I am Lutselk’e Dene’s sigil,
falcon over
lake at
sunrise
and I’m coming home.

Marsi-cho.

*Poem first published in Capilano Review