THE MINERS

For just a blink of the eye in time

They seem frozen, as if in flight…

Those tired, black-dusted miners’ faces,

Down-beaten and old before their time.

The mine mouth at their back seemed like

An inanimate, all devouring, beast

With an insatiable hunger for flesh;

No bargains, no special discounts here.

A penalty applied for any sloppy work–

A broken arm, a leg, a crushed skull.

At times a surtax was extracted–

Someone’s life and perhaps many more.

The coal mine never forgives a mistake

And the price of coal remains the same:

A pound of flesh for a pound of coal.

Even those small frame houses on the hill

Exact their special toll on miners’ folks.

Too many people in too small a house;

Children playing on toxic piles of slate;

Mothers with hands and knuckles scarred thin.

Sometimes, death seems to be a release;

No more coal, no more sleepless nights,

No haunting heartache of a hungry child.

Only a few ever escape this dreariness.

Rest will end as always before.