The Bus Stop

We all have different ways of expressing our feelings. It was supposed to be a text message, but turned into a poem. One international student shares her feelings and encourages other students to do the same.

The Bus Stop

By Patrine Cameron

I was walking around with my head down to the ground

Sinking my teeth on my tongue

Seeking to see sunlight

Hit by many storm clouds

Kicked by the hurricane

Frozen in the snow

Lost my sense of directions sinking really low

I sat by the bus stop heading to a place I don’t know

Trying to find some lasting footprints

Always looking down never around

There were some big ones, some stiletto style, sandals and some Clarks, Puppies, Blahniks, Gucci and Louis V,

I wanted to choose them all

Followed what looked best

But I couldn’t remember where I was

Couldn’t seem to past the test

It rained, yes it poured

I cried, I wrote, I planned and sighed

Searching to find the path

Hoping not to feel God’s wrath

Wrestling in this straight jacket

Fighting these four walls

I watch the many feet pass by

I tried to stand tall

I planned to get it together

I planned to do it all

Yet I couldn’t decide what I wanted and so I stopped by the place I loved

I got off the bus by the bar

I sat on the stool

Wrote on my pad

Told the lady the usual

She looked confused for she knew me not

But she knew my type

She saw the sad eyes, she saw the evidence of what was once a beautiful rock

She saw the notepad and she said she liked my messenger bag

She didn’t ask for an ID she just poured me what she thought I needed to be free

I sipped, I drank and reordered until I choked and coughed

I asked for the nearest inn

Was relieved that no one knew me

No judging eyes

No mysterious steer

No empty promises

No filthy hugs

No absentminded convos

Just business as usual here and there

I wondered what I should do in the morn

I missed my parents and so I wanted to be gone

But there is so much yet to do

I couldn’t possibly see this through

Though wicked this world may be

I wanted to live and I wanted to be free

Free of the yesterdays that trapped me

Free from the present always attacking me

Free from the box I didn’t know I had

Free to be daddy’s little girl

Mommy’s annoying brat

Free to be different, unique and new

Free to let you know it’ll pass, ‘tis true

Then I heard a familiar voice, opened my eyes, it was my professor he said ‘you’re up next, please come to the front of the class’

*whew*

Patrine shares with International Student Voice Magazine, “When I wrote the poem I was tired and just feeling confused. I felt all these emotions and it was a cold day and I was on the bus heading home, it was still early and I wasn’t ready to go home. So I started to write what was suppose to be a text message and the next thing I know..I wrote a poem.”