Worker
Clattering chains clink one on the other across the cold steel plates. Sparks fly off machinists’ torches, melting metal until weakened bars bond stronger than before. Drills spin rivets
into steel plates; the long grind buzzing in the ears of workers long after the last drill has stopped, until the
incessant sound is a constant ambiance, even in the silence of their dreams. And so the loudest of labor’s cries fall into whispers in the back of the mind, ignored like a small child constantly crying, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.” Ignored and forgotten, workers shamble sullenly to their posts, day in and day out, night in and night out, every minute of every day and every week until the twilight of their years sees dark shadows set across the furrows and wrinkles of their brows. One will dream, “Remember when,” and others will smile broken smiles for their forgotten, lost youth, their silent dreams pinned into the metal with every drill and every weld. Imprisoned with every day and every cold bar they build up around themselves. Blocked from a future by iron walls, steel, and hard black reality. Clattering chains clink across the hearts and souls of men trapped in a cold,
cumbersome world. Welds long cold hold the boldest minds closed in a world stone cold in front of weary eyes. Eyes too tired to see beyond the surface of grease covered overalls and sooty boots.

Sailor
Silent ships shift in harbor as waves splash and break across their bows. Moonlight washes across tangled ropes, furled sails, and dark weathered wooden decks. Below men rest on the gentle sea, dreaming of all the gratifications of a hard life. They reek of and can still taste the oblivion of liquor. Their cold skin longs for, their veins pulse for, a soft warm body. Their thoughts are haunted by the bitter salt water. Even now it pushes endlessly, seeping into their most sacred thoughts, saturating their sweetest desires. Silver ripples glisten momentarily against a sable void, rushing, crashing, and vanishing as quickly as they appear. Falling
constantly through the empty black towards shore. 

 

 

 

Mortality

Fatigue brings an emptiness that cannot be filled. Insatiable hunger empties the body and mind of the very will to act, to live. Exhaustion is the bane of man. The desire to act can overcome any evil, any gravity, any mountain. Sleep pulls down the lids and the men, marooning us all in the darkness of inaction and defeat. No rest refreshes, no night can nourish, no hope is honored in the harsh eternity that harbors humanity. Bodies inevitably fall—take faith in the soul.