We are saying goodbye on the platform. In silence the huge train waits, crowding the station with aftermath and longing 5 and all we’ve never said to one another. He shoulders his black bag
I need help with this question:
In line 39, “shackles” implies
Question 30 options:
captivity.
wisdom.
freedom.
movement
Station by Eamon Grennan
1 We are saying goodbye
on the platform. In silence
the huge train waits, crowding the station
with aftermath and longing
5 and all we’ve never said
to one another. He
shoulders his black bag and shifts
from foot to foot, restless to be off, his eyes
wandering over tinted windows where he’ll sit
10 staring out at the Hudson’s[i] platinum dazzle.
I want to tell him he’s entering into the light
of the world, but it feels like a long tunnel
as he leaves one home, one parent
for another,
15 and we both know it won’t ever
be the same again. what is the air at,
heaping between us, then thinning
to nothing? Or those slategrey birds that
croon to themselves in an iron angle, then
20 take flight, inscribing
huge loops of effortless grace
between this station of shade and the shining water?
When our cheeks rest glancing against each other,
I can feel mine scratchy with beard and stubble, his
25 not quite smooth as a girl’s, harder, a faint fuzz
starting-those silken beginnings I can see
when the light is right, his next life
in bright first touches. what ails our heart? Mine
aching in vain for the words
30 to make sense of our life together, his
fluttering in dread
of my finding the words, feathered syllables
fidgeting in his throat
In a sudden rush of bodies
35 and announcements out of the air, he says
he’s got to be going. One quick touch
and he’s gone. In a minute
the train-ghostly faces behind smoked glassgroans away on wheels and shackles, a slow glide
40 I walk beside, waving
at what I can see no longer. Later,
on his own in the city, he’ll enter the underground
and cross the river, going home
to his mother’s house: I imagine that white face
45 carried along in the dark glass, shining
through shadows that fill the window
and fall away again
before we’re even able to name them.
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