NeuroDivine

The screen shows only nonsense blue,
Two choices, neither true;
You freeze beneath the early light
With all that waits for you.

The canal mist drifts pale and low,
The rails begin to sing;
Your mind is on the test ahead—
A hard and heavy thing.

I see the tremor in your hands,
The way your thoughts turn thin;
I step beside you, calm and clear,
And let my voice begin.

“Just get on board, the train is here,
You’re meant to ride, not flee;
The staff will know the machine is down—
They’ll understand, you’ll see.”

Your shoulders ease, the panic lifts,
The world grows kind again;
Two strangers held in gentle pause
Beside the Kildare train.

Reflection

There are moments when the ordinary world thins, and something more becomes possible.

A platform at first light. A broken screen. A stranger caught between two choices, neither of them making sense. And then—almost without thinking—you step closer, speak gently, offer just enough clarity to carry them through.

Scripture tells us that some have entertained angels unawares. We often imagine that the angel is the stranger. But sometimes, perhaps, the roles are reversed.

Not in any grand or shining way. No wings, no radiance. Just a steady voice, a calm presence, a word given at the right moment.

And then it is over. The train arrives. The world resumes. Two lives continue, slightly altered.

If there was an angel on that platform this morning, it was not a being set apart from the world—but someone who, for a brief and passing moment, allowed kindness to take form.

And that is miracle enough.

Copyright 2026 Michael McFarland Campbell