This Way

Lean not too heavy upon that spade

that turned bright soil aside this day.

“Make way, please, he’s coming. ”

Take that bandana to the cold sweat

poured out for love and for labor

the promise took two days to core.

“Please, make way.”

Oh, he’s coming, the final call, claxon echo.

“Make way.”

The going is the more precise motion, gone the blush of youth

clad in uniform, guilt in metallic finery upon your chest

the livery of merit, brave and true, the best.

And now you have come,

this far and no further

till then, when for us to receive our portion straight we meet.

For me, a simple boat with stout oars and sail alight upon the water

retinue songs and silence, voyages complete–

bright flames, haze, and soul lifted skyward ablaze.

c. Lemuel

21 June 2018

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