Govia
A few gifted persons have been known to stand in the way of a runaway train and stop it dead in its tracks. However, the law allows only a conductor or an engineer to stop a train under normal circumstances.
I heard from old folks that great men stop trains with only their voices.
“Stop a train with only a voice?” I said incredulously, the first time I was told this statement.
“Yes,” they replied. “Great men can do anything.”
And so I asked, “Is there any great men alive today?”
“There is still one that we know,” they said.
“Where can I find that man?” I asked.
“Do you need to stop a runaway train?” they said.
“Yes,” I said. “I need to stop it right away. The world depends on it.”
“Then go to Africa,” they said. “Go!”
I caught the first flight leaving America, and flew thousands of miles to Africa in search of a man to stop my runaway train. They said I found him amongst his people in South Africa. To me the man looked old and frail. Perhaps, once he had power, but I questioned his ability to stop the speed of my runaway train.
“Sir,” I said. “Are you the one to stop a runaway train?”
“Train? What train?” the man said.
“Sir, I need a man to stop a runaway train,” I said. “Do you have the voice to do such a thing?”
“I have principles,” the man said. “And I can speak for you but your train is heading for a train wreck.”
“Sir, I know where my train is heading,” I said. “I need someone to stop it. Can you?”
“You need more than me to help you stop your train,” the man said. “An old man’s voice does not have the tenor or endurance to stop something of this magnitude.”
“So how can I do it?” I said.
“Young man,” he said. “You need the help of the people. In days of crisis, it is said, that no man is an island. He who stands by himself in times of peril fails quickly”
I left the old man in Africa thinking to myself that maybe the old man was not so great after all. Though he showed patience and courage, these were not virtues that were expedient to me at the moment. I needed someone to stop a runaway train. I went back to America feeling alone and discontented. I wondered to myself, where is the man I needed? In the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave I came on to another of the old folks.
“Did you find the man?” she said.
“No, I did not find the man I need,” I replied. “The man I found is too weak to stop my train.”
“Then, perhaps, you should go to Boston,” she said. “You may find him there.”
“Who shall I find?” I asked, feeling suddenly euphoric. “Is he a professor?”
“No. He used to be a student.” She said. “He can help you even though now he is dead.”
“Dead!” I said. “What’s the use of a dead man to me? He cannot help me.”
“Do you need to stop your train?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then you have to be able to dream,” she said. “Have a dream that the impossible can be done.”
I walked the length of Commonwealth Avenue in Boston in search of the man to stop my runaway train.
“Where can I find that person?” I asked, the first student I saw.
“Who are you looking for?” he replied, staring at me rather strangely.
“I am looking for a man with a voice to stop a runaway train,” I said. “Someone who studied here. You know, that man who had a dream.”
“Oh, that man,” nodded the stranger. “Try Gotlieb Research Center. It’s to your right.”
I went into the Center and peered into the thoughts of a legend. I learned that he made a historic speech at Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC. I read that he empowered people, and Lord, the man knew how to preach. I got excited dreaming about the possibilities of stopping my runaway train. Then I remembered that the man was dead. I did not have the means to stop the train, and there was no one alive who was able to achieve that purpose.
I left Boston feeling more disappointed than when I came. I was admitting defeat to myself when I came across another of these old folks.
“Did you find who you came to look for in Boston?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Then you must leave Boston and go to India,” he said. “Perhaps, you may discover the solution to your problem there.”
“Why must I go to India?” I said. “Haven’t I traveled enough already? What good has it done me?”
“There’s a man from India who can help you stop your train,” he said. “Go there and learn. Be patient.”
“Ok,” I said. “But he better be in India when I get there.”
I got on to another plane and journeyed to India in search of a man to stop a runaway train. I landed in the capital on a day that was suffocating-hot, so I was in a hurry to accomplish my purpose.
“Do you know the man? I asked an Indian.
“What man?” said the Indian. “I know many men.”
“A man who has patience,” I said.
“He who has patience must also have courage,” responded the Indian.
“Good,” I said. “I need that man.”
“He who has courage must also have a plan,” said the Indian.
“Good! I have a plan!” I shouted.
“What is your plan?” asked the Indian.
“I plan to stop a runaway train,” I said.
“So how will the man help you to achieve your objective?” asked the Indian.
“The man must help me cultivate a voice strong enough to stop a runaway train dead in its tracks,” I said.
“Sir, such a man does not exist in India today,” said the Indian. “There was once such a man, but now he is dead.”
“Dead?” I shouted. “Dead again? If I had known I wouldn’t have bothered to come all this way. How am I going to stop a train if nearly all the help I’m given are dead?”
“Sir,” said the Indian. There’s no need to get angry now. You can still stop your train.”
“How…?” How can I?” I asked, choking on my frustration.
“First, you have to have the conviction that nothing can destroy the principles for which you stand,” said the Indian.
“That’s for Mandela, the man of principles from South Africa,” I said. “That is not me.”
“Second, you must be able to dream of something noble and work towards achieving it even when the physical realities of life seem to dictate that you should never achieve that dream.”
“That’s not me,” I said. “That’s for King, the dreamer.
“Third, you need the courage and determination to peacefully resist any force arrayed against the principle for which you stand, “said the Indian.
“That’s your Gandhi,” I shouted. “I’m not Gandhi. Tell me something that I do not know.”
“Sir, you don’t need the voice, Sir. It’s the rest of us who need it. Your train is the United States.”
Francis Anthony Govia is the publisher of The Muffin Post. He is a graduate of Boston University and the University of Wisconsin Law School. Stop a Train was written during the presidency of George W. Bush when the author felt that America’s foreign policy was heading for a train wreck, and that his country was losing the moral authority to lead. In this poem, the subject traverses the globe in search of a figure with the moral conviction to bring America and the world back from the brink of impending doom. Today, as we grapple with a socioeconomic crisis, this poem has come to represent more to the author.
