Monday, June 27, 2011


I am ready to be cleansed

Washed clear of the discontent

That straightens my back

Under a heavy weight

I stand firm, totally still

Orders not be disobeyed

On this side of time

Standing ever grey ground

Dressed in coats that lost

The meaning to the tides

Of windswept change

Would my momma know why

She worked on the farm

From sun-up to sun-down

Birthing gravestones under

Every harvest moon

To replenish the ranks

Of the able-bodied hands

To work more, grow more

And glean more for others

Sisters sewing the ash woolens

Of men’s funeral clothes

For their final march

Under the stars and bars

Roll red tide

Until you sweep me away

The idealist now control

The ebb and flow in Tennessee

Across every valley

A blue coat now monitors

Many a watery stone

And the rivers wash over

Those who never made it home

© NP 4/26/11

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