Arrival

I've reached the point in Wesley Adamczyk's book where he finally arrived in Chicago after World War II. Still in his teens, he had lived the majority of his life in exile and in dreadful circumstances - in one country after another. The plight of "displaced persons" after that war was often ugly. But he had family in Chicago who were finally able to claim him in.

I was deeply moved by this passage:

The train slowly came to a stop under a large canopy at Union Station. My heart pounded as I took my first step on American soil. A brief walk along the platform, amid people rushing this way and that, brought me to a huge, beautiful room the likes of which I had never seen before and could never have imagined being a railroad station. Confused, I thought I had walked through the wrong door and was in some other building, perhaps a basilica.

Of course, it was the station.
And it was, indeed, a shrine
Of spectacular design
To the power of transportation.

He had stepped into a nation
Where commerce loves to shine,
And efficient operation
Is almost thought divine.