He was forged out of pioneering stock,
walked Belly River rough-sticked paths
when they were new to fall of foreign feet.
Chalky dust settled in pores that knew
sweet air of new homesteading
where he was the land
and the land was he for the sweat and toil
it took by both to be harnessed
to work miracles on a section of land.
His half-breed horse with workhorse fetters
and its jaw set upon the bit for gaining ground
wearing a swaybacked saddle with its leather-bare horn
as part of its gallop and gain.
He batted his post awl to set the borders,
strung his wire with jagged barb,
laid log into groove at fitted cut-outs
to make the home that would become the barn.
Winter came and wood smoke drifted
down the river and onto Kainai Reserve
as invitation to an old man who appreciated
the man’s good work and brought him in haste
with a venison quarter slung over his shoulder
so they could share stew in broken English
that would bind them as friends for the rest of their lives.
Long after the log cabin slumped to the soil,
land was parceled up as inheritance
and both men were as old as their stories,
my father died and in the brand new chapel
came a family who felt him kin to honor
the man they’d seen love the earth
with as gentle a hand as ever known in a foreigner.
And we yearn for the ranch, for the men,
for the days when life was sharing and caring
in times that were tough because settling was rough
unless there were more hands to help build the fire
of friendship for this melting pot we once called home.
Author notes
Y is for yearngin with INSIGHT
METAPHOR/SYMBOLOGY
SPIRITUALITY
NOSTALGIA
CREATIVITY
DEEP THOUGHT
In a list
- Songs Of My Soul - Love Letters • next in list
- What A Character • next in list
- Gold Poetry • next in list
A contest entry
- Y=YEARNING FOR THE YELLOWED PAGES OF YESTERYEAR...Sharing Memories on Way to Z by Blue Rew.
1170 points, ended December 15, 2007, 12 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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This displays an amazing depth...it has strength of character and power in its voice. There is no one part that can be named favorite; for it must be taken as a whole to see goodness as a way of life. Blue
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thank you. this is dedciated to my adoptive father, who was 58 when they got me almsot 60 years ago.
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There is so much need in the world but the day of the neighbor coming for a potluck to help raise a barn are gone. People have become so self absorbed they let doors slam in the faces of old women as they enter and exit a grocery store. I wish I knew the answers to pit respect back into our vocabulary...
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oh yes, it is such a maligned word.... so many think it must be foreced, controlled, and they end up feared not respected. Workign with troubled youth really taught me ways to earn respect....
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More is said inthe sharing of sweat and toil then in all the white chapels in this land. We share who we are in our labor, show our respect from the feet up and our openess and tenderness from the heart out to our hands in what we build. No surprises here only a understanding that creates a generational language understood long after the words are forgotten.
Beautifully portrayed.
Love, Tom B.
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you are so right..no more quilting bees, barn-raisings, canning groups...jsut to name some I was invovled in when I was young.... not like there used to be...but I see a need for it to come back...
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Agrarian reality is that we are all gamblers on the fruits of this good earth and we are never masters of our fate, nor beggars, just, hard workers who must do as needs be done to reap our rewards if weather and the gods permit. We know many hands make a task easy. Gifts are from the heart because the land makes each one a work of love.
Now in a land where tech is our slave and provides immediate gratification, we need to create a new path to appreciation and respect. We earn nothing but money. Objects appear, instead of grow from sweat and effort. Craftsmenship is a lasar arm. We harm ourselves every day because we have no relationship with our universe only a attitude.
Sadly, I have no answers, only cautions and a big heart. I have found, once someone trusts it, my heart changes the world around me. I can only affect those I touch and I touch far too few. Still, it is always one at a time.
Love, Tom B.
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