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| Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid |
What will become of this infant my tired hands hold?
Laughter and smile absent; his sweet face resigned.
Death and destruction swirl about my protective arms,
trying to invade and conquer. He coughs and rests his head
upon my shoulder. I won't put him down; can't bear another loss.
I will my strength to seep into his body; he must survive as
this mountain of coal's burning anger has extracted enough revenge.
My heart rebels "I can give no more", yet continues its beating,
its bleeding. I pray to God for my son's breathing to clear;
I've had enough of bad air and death. His father's last thoughts
written in hell's belly were, "My dear wife and baby,
I want you to go back home and take the baby there, so good-bye.
I am going to Heaven so meet me there.
Love, James A Brooks." Oh, dear James,
I will heed your words. But first, I feverishly await
news of the twins, Jimmy and Johnny. Did our little spraggers
suffer the same fate as you? My strength is ebbing, but I promise
I will soon flee this porch; the train, the dust, the ever-present danger.
Human replacements will be easy to find; God help them.
Ten mules died today; perhaps this will be seen as a real tragedy after-all.
by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens, May 2, 2011
This is for Magpie Tales # 62. Please click HERE to be read other amazing entries.
I entered this into One Stop Poetry's "One Stop Poetry Form". The subject is "blank verse" - but does that mean I was supposed to keep it to basically a ten syllable count per line? If so, I can always try and rewrite this and put the second attempt below... (Post Note: It isn't blank verse! :)
One Stop Poetry "One Shot Wednesday, Week 44" is another place you will find this very free verse poem. Maybe this really isn't a poem... is it TOO free verse for that. If it isn't a poem what is it called? (Be nice! )
I also entered this into Steve Isaak's "3 Word Week #9" The 3 words are: infant, porch and train. Submissions need to be 600 words or less.
The letter from James A Brooks is real - written in a 1902 Tennessee Coal Mining Tragedy. For photos and chilling details of what life was like for children working the mines back then, please click "United States Department of Labor".
An excerpt from the highlighted sight:
Note: Boys worked underground as nippers and spraggers. The boys holding the pieces of wood were spraggers. Only the fastest boys could be spraggers because they controlled the speed of the mine cars as they rolled down the slope. They worked in pairs. Each boy had about twenty or thirty sprags. As the mine cars rolled downhill the spraggers ran alongside the cars and jabbed the sprags into the wheels. The sprags worked as brakes, slowing the cars down. The job was dangerous. The car could fly out of control and jump the track and crash into the mine wall if the wheels were not spragged properly.
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| Photo courtesy of US Department of Labor (see highlighted site above) |
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| Photo courtesy of US Department of Labor (see highlighted site above) |
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The following photo is for the "Creative Exchange". My little boy, splashing in a puddle in Charleston, SC. Thank God he will never know such awful living conditions experienced by the mining children of the early 20th century. I added a b&w version and I think it gives it a timeless appeal. Those sweet faces above aren't much older than my little guy below... This will be for "Black & White Wednesdays."
I wasn't sure which one to submit. A boy stomping in a puddle is classic. But the following one is filled with fun, too. I will be posting about our spring vacation to Charleston, Hilton Head, and Savannah soon.
