My Roots

My Roots

For this reason, those who worked in that place,

Through wintry storms, and rainy torrents, each human race

Marched ever forward their jobs to keep,

It was the miners, coal diggers of which I speak.

Hard hats, rubber boots, lunch buckets, and respirators adorned,

Promising to keep the oaths that were sworn.

To provide for their families as best as they could,

Knowing full well each belonged to the same brotherhood.

From parking lots filled with cars and trucks,

Walked the dedicated miners willing to do what it took.

To mine coal in the earth from sunrise to sunset,

To keep food on their tables, working without regret.

In deep unforgiving black diamond slops or shafts,

Three to five miles long in the dark working their craft.

Ton upon ton of the earth’s fossil fuel,

Were mined by those fearless men and women who weren’t fools.

For to mine coal isn’t in everyone’s lineage,

It takes a craft, a skill, many consider a privilege.

The coal miners helped to build a great nation,

By their efforts underground fulfilling their obligation.

It was from this life living in coal fields,

That my family laughed, loved, and healed.

Let’s not ignore life’s memories, nor its humble beginnings shun,

Because each glow of gratefulness for where it began.

For Astrid.