Down in the darkness,
we delved deep and scraped the rock
from the rough cavern walls,
dangerous work, this waiting…
Tracks under the ground,
riding by the strung up lights,
rocks glittering as we pass by,
with each moment, waiting…
Walking the load out,
wheelbarrow loaded down,
dust in the air, bandana caked,
dumping the rocks, waiting…
Barrow’s such a loaded word
to use around the mines,
because we’re always keyed
up and ready, waiting…
When the sounds come,
we’re free or entombed within,
waiting to return to do it all again
or spending eternity, waiting….
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Always remember Poetry isn’t a Choice.
Also, I’m still working on my Passion Project, my Poetry collection, In Media Rêves. Check out my GoFundMe and contribute if you would like.