Old man baking in the midday sun
Charlotte Scadeng 2006
Bent double in arthritic pain.
He can no longer stand upright,
The shovel wears him down,
As do the deaths and the dirt, and the strain.
Old father, ploughing in the midnight rain
Preparing a grave for his son.
Proudly and neatly chipping away.
The thought in the background as his vocation is calling
The first deaths, but more are to come.
My husband and lover preparing the earth
For the husbands and lovers who died.
On a dry strip of dirt at the edge of the road
His back belonging to the work that he’s done
But continuing with love and with pride.
