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Friday, July 3, 2020

The Diggers

The Diggers

Today will be like any other

during this time of disease

They will dig the graves

for the people who bring

the members of their family

The body will be wrapped

in sheets from the final bed

Coffins are not available

So many have died today

the supply of wood is lean

There is always crying

No one cries for the trees

that are now being chopped

for some other use than shade

A digger's tears are dry

His face is always creased

At home the teapot sings

This is the wail of oceans

for all the dead in rows

Too many shrouds yell

from the earth for change

These people were all unique

before the diggers came

We all reappear in the dust

Barry G. Wick