BUYING MY SOUL BACK
I have been hammering at this huge chunk of rock all afternoon. The hammer is heavy; the climb down to this quarry is the hardest. Small shards of rock poke my feet. It is not pain…but a strange kind of throb that one experiences when on a trek that just doesn’t end… everyday I have to climb down into this quarry and walk upto this particular rock and spend the rest of the day chipping away pieces large and small.
I don’t recall who put me into this job. I don’t remember whose advice sold me this living. I chip away at each passing day.
From below I look up whenever iam tired to see this vast crater of human effort. Some call it destruction, I see it differently. Long ago in this place where this wounded mutilated rock face stands, there used to be a much more pleasant looking landscape.
I cant talk too much today…. My foreman glares at me.
I am a prisoner. I have to work here…
I fell in love…. and into this shack…Iam fighting to buy my soul back.
I have been hammering at this huge chunk of rock all afternoon. The hammer is heavy; the climb down to this quarry is the hardest. Small shards of rock poke my feet. It is not pain…but a strange kind of throb that one experiences when on a trek that just doesn’t end… everyday I have to climb down into this quarry and walk upto this particular rock and spend the rest of the day chipping away pieces large and small.
I don’t recall who put me into this job. I don’t remember whose advice sold me this living. I chip away at each passing day.
From below I look up whenever iam tired to see this vast crater of human effort. Some call it destruction, I see it differently. Long ago in this place where this wounded mutilated rock face stands, there used to be a much more pleasant looking landscape.
I cant talk too much today…. My foreman glares at me.
I am a prisoner. I have to work here…
I fell in love…. and into this shack…Iam fighting to buy my soul back.
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