Hardly could I see even their silhouettes
Through the thick and coastal fog
But this day their voices broke-
Pierced the haze with common song.

Dancing their sorrow, wave by wave.
Their spectral shadows swayed through white.
A snap brought them up in line,
A step closer to the end of time.

I pulled the Grimy wooden pole
And heard the crack of rope pulled taught
When the mine closed, bread was scarce
But I still haven’t received what I sought

So here I’m glued by starving kids
I cannot, though I pray to leave.
Here they too are trapped hand in hand
But soon at least, they’ll be free.

My face is hid by hide
That way I thought I’d be safe
But I know they know me
Their song pulls protection from my face

Tight Skin and washboard ribs
One yank and one less lives.
Ripped pants and forearm thighs
I will never escape their eyes

These people together are savior-faced-
Racing in a fruitless race.
My arm cramps and knots but still they come
And I’d give anything to take their place.

Who am I
Who am I
Who am I to mute a chorus?

Tight Skin and washboard ribs
One yank and one less lives.
Ripped pants and forearm thighs
I will never escape their eyes