The crunching of coal beneath my feet
reverberates into my mask
its voice comforting but unwelcome
my breathing loud and expressive
kneeling to him my heart fills
with tightness and naïve hope
the want to rip my mask off and
call to him is strong but means death
my nose runs but it can’t be wiped
ears run out and over he rubber
filling he inside with humidity
he plastic fogs like he inside of my head
he looks peaceful from many days of sleep
I place my hand gently under his head
careful not to hurt which is silly
as he will feel no more
my lamp catches his dull eyes
and through he foggy plastic
they scream questions unanswered
as his face slides off to one side
it is a long time to late
and i can’t understand why I still hope
become angry that he cannot hear me
he never will, ever again
and as we scoop him into black plastic
he panic rises like a fast growing weed
people loved his man I don’t know
and I will have to tell them
black bags at our sides
filled with our brothers
and another part of my heart
is in every one
like a babe to the breast
walking back in to he light
taking off he sticky mask
is welcome and relieving
bent and with broken hearts I become harder
black and unforgiving like he anthracite
in he hole we have just come from
……and will go back to
Anthracite 