#orpheusposting

Hand in dark river-

Oil on top

From the mill

My kin call savior.

It easy to see now

That the poor here

Have no saver.

Pull the line up

With calloused hands-

Cruel cruel father

But he was a hard working man.

Lungs full of lime dust,

You can hear it when they talk-

I know more burn victims

Than I ever did of love.

Dirty south

Know now how they see us-

Teach the boys how to profit

Off of blood

And show the daughters how to be less.

Fields or mills or hospital rooms,

There isn’t much to do here

But the youth can make do.

Jugs out of boat

See them bob

And think of truth.

Breaking down bodies

As they can only speak of service-

Work until deaths door

But best believe fed mouths

Are worth it.

We’ve all got stories here-

Of family lost to addiction

Or disease or fear.

Bones stacking up

Taller than statues of confederates-

Misinformation spreading

Like a disease that has ate restlessness.

And don’t get me started

On the lies that are fed in this-

Bass in the boat,

Fighting for what’s left of it.

Uncles losing hands

And fathers of fathers

Fighting for ease

From needless wars in foreign lands.

There is no pride here truly,

But dancing in survival-

The most beautiful music

Played from street corners

And people with eyes low.

Don’t tell me of resilience

Till you’ve tasted the honey

Of sleep after working until arms are weak-

When there are mothers

Forgoing food so that the babies can eat.

States full of policies

For the few that will profit

And the ones that will fall for it.

We’re the uneducated surely,

The lesser, the misknown.

But there is something beautiful

In this flooded, long drenched home.

How community finds it’s way

In places not meant-

Like truth of human kind,

Pack built, long spent.

Life after storm,

Matters not who you are-

Hardship and hate sure,

But warmth and love filled arms.

Scaled bodies up for grabbing,

Fill the needy and the hungered-

Gutted fish and children laughing,