Journey from Home

This poem was inspired by Ten Words on Facebook and is also posted there.

This is the way the stars shine
bright over hills empty but for fire’s rind
in coarse grass, too dry for flowers to grow
the silhouettes dig an hour or so,
staining the night with sweat sour
breath a huff hot with power
scratching at dirt pack,
breaking shovel and back
ground won’t give an inch
give it up, roll ‘im in a low ditch
father stands in respect, hat to chest
brother squats on hard heels and reflects,
dry men on dry earth
pushed from the land of their birth
mother and child search the dark for stones
cringe at every breath the wind moans
weave a pebble blanket over his body
a heavy weight to keep out coyote
they move on, wagon wheels squeaking
he stays, forgotten in their speaking,
and builds a fire in
his private cavern
to keep out night
and blind the twinkling starlight
‘til the winds make the grass bow
and buzzards find him anyhow
and that day star bleaches his skull
and gives the dreams room to grow

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