Nostalgic Noises & Never-Ending Change

By Chelsea Adams

Check out more about Chelsea here.

Lately, I've been quite nostalgic. I guess that's normal considering all that has taken place. Clearly, the higher power had no 2020 vision for the year that marks yet another decade. Maybe it only had constant and never-ending change as a priority, to test my newfound sense of worth after graduating university; but still not attending any formal ceremony. Nevertheless, I have become a tad wistful for what used to be, and it seems that writing has helped me escape, even only for an hour, into the past; where things were simpler, and I used to dream…much more than I do now.

-The Noise On A Train-
The noise on a train.
That void silence of people too scared to make noise…
The breathing of the person next to you.
The intensity of a peak hour commute;
A sardine can train tin,
Whose lid opens at each stop and closes again:
Not gaining any fish.
Simply because it’s too full.
 
The noise on a train.
The mingling gibberish of many conversations at once,
With the robotic voice of metro announcing our location.
The smell of an afternoon commute mingles,
 In the humidity of Melbourne’s 2020 summer.
 
The noise on a train.
That awkward eye contact.
Phone screen out
To hide the doubt,
That you just looked into another’s eyes.
 
The noise on a train.
That comforting click clack,
And constant “now arriving at…” computer generated voice.
Each being on the carriage in their own little world.
A phone, book or tablet.
The news, fiction or a call.
Those with their eyes,
Beginning to close as the consistent movement lulls them into a gentle resting sleep.
They sway side to side with the carriage movement,
Only to be nudged awake again as the transport stops – again.
And again. And again.
Always stopping and starting but still forever moving forward.
Still carrying people to the parts of their lives that move our day and weeks forward.
Forward and into the future.
But then again maybe the future will include a train trip to the airport.
We can only dream.
 
The noise on a train.
I can dream.
As I stare out of the carriage over the beach.
Cause it’s my future.
I get to choose.
 
I'd like to think that if and when I catch any public transport again, I'd take the time to maybe get to know at least another person in the carriage with me.
Please don't lie, I'm sure you can relate; because I can't be the only one guilty of making extended general conversation with the cashier at my local supermarket, simply because I wish to remember what it felt like to have a new spontaneous discussion. Those that spark a static between people. That make you excited to start a new connection. Thoughts of such a feeling now mostly lead me to imagine people's smiles; which may sound strange, but it has marginally helped throughout this second lockdown. I guess it ties in with a notion of generating hope. A smile can do that for someone. It's genuine, endearing, and gives off a wave of positivity. Smiles are like batteries; they keep you charged with kindness in the hopes that you can pass that to another.
In the spirit of hope and seeing as I wrote the poetry piece above well before lockdown began, I'd like to leave you with another that I finished last week, at some midnight hour when I couldn't sleep. I'd had a particularly large case of writer's block and was determined to break it.
Simply put, I don't think the change that has taken place is our enemy; rather I think it has now helped our civilisation value the commodity of time over money. It has reminded us of the larger systemic problems the world has faced all along; however, no action has been made. Most of all it has continued to foster hope, resilience, and kindness. Change can be the essence, the catalyst, and the present.
 
-Change-
To be staved of conversation
Of touch
Of words, so much.
Of that looking forward to context
To be confused and upon a loop,
Of never-ending fears;
Their onset.
 
To know there is still meaning
In each particle of time
But no way to return
To the real motivational joy
Of another's eyes.
 
Only gratitude for the privilege I enjoy
Time has felt stagnant
Uneventful, uneven
No flow.
No longer a way to mark occasions
Seconds feel useless
Irregular and toying
With their speed and sacrifice
Leaving us, overflowing.
 
To be creating a routine
To be only getting by
To be the ever-changing humans
Of a sick global strike.
To feel stuck, and uprooted
All at once.
To be not expecting much
In this year of life;
For once.
 
I'd like a refund
An unpaid return,
Of the days I've paid for
And clearly earned.
It's not that there's nothing
To show for those days
I have still created
Sweat
And attempted to work away.
All while the figures increase
And blare out white noise
To tv screens
While many pass on
Their number unseen.
 
Stranger the times
Stranger the place
Starved of what was normal
A reconfigured trace.
Reimagined
Reclaimed
Fighting again
Accepting the cost
And what is to gain:
Change.