One of the men lifted his head
and looked at me
as we sloped past the ash fields,
and rows of toilers
like grey bamboo canes
if bamboo was stooped and bent
with brittle hands knuckle white
against the plastic handled hoes.
Her hands, smaller, firmer, sure,
came down on my shoulders
shadowed his face with fear.
An explanation in a classroom
pretending it isn’t an excuse
claims to be progress,
claims to be a new world
built on the broken bones
of the last.
Mothers scream during childbirth.
There is blood and pain
and sometimes
death.
We are lucky we are not all toiling.
If the old world had their way
who knows what would have happened?
We are smarter these days
we can laugh at the facts
that shattered when the world changed.
Who know what will happen
at the next night rise.
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Published by Carol J Forrester
Carol J Forrester is a writer and a history geek. Her debut collection 'It's All In The Blood' came out November 2019.
She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University, enjoys judo at least twice a week, and tries to attend poetry events around the Midlands when she can.
Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry. Her poems ‘Sunsets’ and ‘Clear Out‘ were featured on Eyes Plus Words, and two of her poems were included in the DVerse Poets Pub Publication ‘Chiaroscuro’ which is available for purchase on amazon.Her poem ‘Until The Light Gets In‘ was accepted and published at The Drabble and her poem ‘Newborn’ was published by Ink Sweat & Tears.
She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and has hosted a number of guest bloggers on her site Writing and Works.
View all posts by Carol J Forrester
Maybe we need to be ready to toil once again…
As Zorba said, “Life is trouble, only death is not.” There are a privileged few who can skate, but most of us need to keep our sleeves rolled up.
There is a consistency to life and some things, particularly human nature, change very little. Not all mothers scream in childbirth. For some it is a beautiful and spiritual experience. But in recent times both television and media seem incapable of depicting pregnancy without vomiting – I never vomited – or labour without screaming. did not scream either. 🙂
The description of the toilers in the first stanza is stark and oh so clear, Carol, and I felt a pang of guilt when I read the lines:
‘An explanation in a classroom
pretending it isn’t an excuse
claims to be progress,
claims to be a new world
built on the broken bones
of the last.’
I like the cynicism in:
‘We are smarter these days
we can laugh at the facts
that shattered when the world changed.’
Good observation in these lines: “An explanation in a classroom
pretending it isn’t an excuse
claims to be progress”