Ancestry
To go down into the mine
again and again,
searching for one more seam,
one more rich vein.
To walk the dark tunnels
deeper and deeper,
until daylight fades behind
like a rumor.
To hear the trickling water
drip and drip,
making the way treacherous,
slick, unforgiving.
To chip away at the walls,
harder and harder,
until the dust
defies breathing.
To return to the surface,
levels and levels,
clutching a meager find,
holding it up to the light.
/ / /
27 August 2023
Charlottesville VA
This is poem 37 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.
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