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Mining Poetry by Joel Tankersley
We Were Miners
We knew our wars,
o’ labors love.
The depths of dark,
the sun above.
The stone was cold,
the stone was hot.
Deaths own hand,
it mattered not.
We were miners, we bore our trade,
our sinful flesh.
Hopes were made,
counted, blessed
The times alive,
left alone.
We were the mountain,
our flesh and bone
We were miners,
we understood the choices made.
The rushing wind,
when daylight fades.
We held to values, to fill the mill.
And in design,
stand there still.
We were miners still.
Copyright Joel Tankersley
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