Shared Strength

The shovel hit the hard baked red clay, And only disturbed the yellow star thistle. The rock below me bothered Grandpa, Bothered enough to force me up at five, Before sunrise break to dig it up. I resisted with the groans of youth, But leather belt’s force is compelling. Standing in Levis in Gold Rush country, I toil in the same untameable ground. Crack goes the shovel as it sparks rock, Pick axe, water, shovel — an orchestra, A chorus of misery for a rock, A rock that has done nothing major, Only created a bump for a lawn mower. The sun seems to be rising fast now, As I feel the sweat rolling over my eyelids. I dig, but the rock seems to grow — Bigger, bigger, and bigger still. Under direction of pain himself, Tall, tan, in a white undershirt, Gold necklace that matches a few teeth, Crisp jeans and a white cowboy hat. We loved him, but feared all the same. He stands a man beaten by life's force. First his sister and home in a fire, Then mother lost to quic...

A life is lived between the dash of headstone’s final respite. From young and innocent, to the age’s vaulted wisdom. In the middle lies the laundry, the stains, grit, and grime of a life learned in the trying, a battle against natural self. To push the howling wind, and protect our kindred few. To give a life is not momentary, a fleeting choice to protect family, but rather an internal quest to protect them forevermore. Lessons of the past your compass, hard work the only motor. Virtues passed down shape the version you fight to become. Worry lost on innocent new minds, that cannot see what is not there. They know not who you honor in your work, deed, and tarrying on. For their quest is theirs alone, unrelated to your journey past. Realization that it is not a chain, but rather a ship builder of sort — as they sail toward new horizons, carrying our time together through storm and strife, beautiful sunsets and passion. They carry those things thought, as ...