Discontent Poem by Steven Federle

Discontent



Late at night
our trains pass through broad meadows.

We grip controls, heavy, uncertain, anxious
about schedules,
about stalled cars on tracks,
about small children darting through the night,
small children who dare steel wheels and blinding lights
who dare death at our trembling hands;

we guide our trains
probing the night
along the measured way,

discontent,

without incident.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
'The life of contemplation in action and purity of heart is, then, a life of great simplicity and inner liberty. One is not seeking anything special or demanding any particular satisfaction. One is content with what is.'
Thomas Merton. The Inner Experience: Notes on Contemplation.
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Steven Federle

Steven Federle

Cincinnati Ohio
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