Dec 2017
Cold is the night of the Kentucky frontier.
The shining light of a hopeful traveler searching hard for what he would hope to be the nearby coal mining town.
As vain as the idealism in his heart.
His hopes of a better life shadowing reality.
His future is filled with the crunch of boots and slicing of shovel blades.
The black heart of the mountains crying in anguish.
He was not the first.
Nor the last.
He was simply a product of his culture.
But one day would serve him well a reminder of his risk.
A flicker of light within the tunnels erupting the burping rumble of natural retribution.
Hellfire and brimstone coating the entire mine with silt and ash.
As was the life in the Black Appalachia.
The shining light of a hopeful traveler searching hard for what he would hope to be the nearby coal mining town.
As vain as the idealism in his heart.
His hopes of a better life shadowing reality.
His future is filled with the crunch of boots and slicing of shovel blades.
The black heart of the mountains crying in anguish.
He was not the first.
Nor the last.
He was simply a product of his culture.
But one day would serve him well a reminder of his risk.
A flicker of light within the tunnels erupting the burping rumble of natural retribution.
Hellfire and brimstone coating the entire mine with silt and ash.
As was the life in the Black Appalachia.
A small poem/story of my home in the Appalachian Mountains and the curse that happened to hundreds of my neighbors and friends. Coal mining still a dangerous and prevailing occupation over there. My heart goes out to those still lurking in those mines with their canaries in hand.
