Labourer
Working on the lines,
it’s just another day of
working on the lines.
Working on the lines,
it’s just another day of
working on the lines.
I have loved and lost,
and buried my heart so I
would not love again.
The storm and the song
carry me along
through war and strife,
this tumultuous life,
to where I belong.
Take care whom you hold –
unworthy arms will never
treat you with respect.
All of the noise
from the girls and boys
makes me crawl in my skin;
their damnable din
challenges my poise.
The words that hurt most
come from the mouths of those whom
we most desire praise.
I am dumbfounded;
the words catch in my throat, and
they refuse to budge.
Language,
cascading words,
alien syllables,
hide a depth and meaning beyond
our ken.
Just what should I say
to the people who’ve hurt me.
My words have failed me.
My heart,
my Beloved,
I miss you more each day,
and pray for your safe arrival.
Godspeed.