Bicycle

Strange how we tend to hold on to something familiar when in an environment foreign and uncertain. Each day, for a year, my journey to work in Beijing took me past a certain solitary bicycle. I later discovered many such bicycles …

He stands in silence

Heavy unforgiving chains bind him to the icy cold post

Waiting

Forgotten

He hears the pace 

Fast, droning and tedious

All going somewhere

Or nowhere

He sees the crowds

Pushing, walking and running

Angry, happy, anxious 

The daily migration

He sees the traffic

Cars, trucks and busses

Going there

Coming back

He hears the noise

Hooters, revving and screeching

Pounding music, chitter-chatter

Glass shattering 

He breathes the air

Polluted, acrid and dry

Nostrils flaring, sneezing, coughing and choking

Oxygen deficient

He feels the rain

Fresh, heavy, stinging and acidic

Temperatures extreme

Testing his durability

He sees the roads

Asphalt, white lines, yellow lines and lights

Stretching far and wide

Imprinted in the metal of his skeleton

He waits

Four seasons gone

More to come

Waiting

Forgotten

He asks

Where is my home?

My shelter

My life, my purpose

How much longer he wonders

Who will come?

Where is he, she, they?

Why deserted do I stand?

After twelve long months

I no longer see you

Your space is bare

The tree stands alone

You do not see the gentle snows fall

You do not feel the cold 

You are no longer

Sadness fills my heart

And yet I am thankful

For you endure no more

The poison that surrounds us

Hanging heavily on our existence

Breathe easy my friend

Go with the wind

You are free now

No more steel clasps

Glide along the lanes

Feel the warmth of light

Carry those upon your seat

To evergreen days and endless blue nights