od04hfns的部落格

If you could set-up a sound,

in the hunch of Mother Earth

from the cool, depths underground

What would that sound be?

A laugh, a whisper, a expressed end word

a gasp, a supplication, a plea

If you could fit-up a delirium by the eye, seen

would you descry the grasp of comfort

from one man to the other,

brothers in their principle . . . freed

If you could dissolve the darkness, beside a flame

Or knowingness inspiration ignited, by a prayer

You would have seen the angels that came

and rapt amongst the men downbound there

Men of the Heartland

Miners of our Earth

Beckoned to His Homeland

Men of family-Men of worth!

Extolled in the human heart

is our association next to the Creator

like a major in the firmament, bright

And to the Heavens preceding we lift

our opinion done the darkness

until we affix with the Light

Copyright 2006 Kathy Pippig Harris

For the vegetable matter miners who perished in the Aracoma Alma Mine, the Sago Mine of West Virginia, and Darby Mine Number 1 in Kentucky.

And for my granddaddy who was a fossil fuel laborer in Illinois, and wanted roses.

'*'

The duration of a vegetable matter manual laborer is ground. They have their social unit and integrated bunch of friends. And, they have their faith. Their job is insecure and oft alone. The trade they do is as necessary to our province as is the air we body process. When our bucolic loses a lonesome creature to the mines, we have mislaid a beat in the undulation of our land.