The sun rises
Over flatland houses
Awaking thousands of toilers, dedicating the day
To work.
A State of nature meets a state of labour
As wiry tar roads fill with wiry tough people
Faithfully making their way
To work.
Pragmatic personas bind fundamental families
And the daytime marks their time.
Docks, farms, offices and churches;
Platforms for provision and protection
That safeguard the men and women
Who work.
Neighbours, families and strangers brought together
By the Carolinas
Employees, bosses and others held together
By the Carolinas
Wholesome living, wholesome loving and wholesome spirit
Embody those
Who work.
Messy mealtimes follow difficult worktimes
And begin with genuine prayertime
And end in humble familytime.
Community and hospitality
Surround those
Who pray.
The sun sets on the lush forests
Sending fragmented orange purples
Forth from waters of Life
As broken boys and genial girls
Settle down
And pray.
Servant husbands divulge miseries to their
Worn wives
As they weep over hardship and walk by hope
Struggling, fighting and aching
They pray.
Darkness envelops bright homes
Surrounding dreary lives
Yet in spite of the Darkness they are filled
With Joy
And dream.
North Carolina seems like more than a place to be. It seems more than a tourist attraction, but more like its own complex Universe. With people experiencing similar unperfect lives, bound together by turmoil they probably think is unique to them. I am almost saddened by this poem. The landscape is not just made up of the place, but of the people. And the lives they lead both inside and outside of their homes, nestled in North Carolina. Almost like planets swriling away in the deep, exapansive milky way...
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