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Take my hand
Walk with me.
Let me lead you
On a journey.
Explore with me
And discover
The simple complexities,
The eccentricities,
Of the place I make my home.
Hard work.
A lesson
Ingrained into those
Who were born here.
One that new-comers
Are quick to learn.
The daily routine
Of so many
Who dare
To rise before the sun.
Supporting their families.
Men and women
Break their backs
Hauling lumber,
Digging clams…
Can’t you feel
The mud sucking
At your feet,
Just by watching them
Slave away?
You’re sinking ever deeper.
But your shoes
Are firmly planted on the ground.
Oh no!
Someone’s looking our way.
Hurry now!
Before they ensnare us
In their musty fishing nets
And we become tangled up
Just like the day’s catch.
A fishy odor emanating from our pores.
Can you smell it?
The scent of sawdust
Wrapped in sea-salt.
Hear the mill
Long at work.
Taste the salty air
As the waves
Lap at the shore.
The two seem nearly interchangeable.
Up the hill
Let us sprint.
Across rusted train tracks
Still frequently used.
An unexpected whistle
From the approaching engine
Bellows out it’s warning.
Sends your heart drumming
A pounding rhythm
Against your ribs.
Are you breathless?
No time
To still
That racing heart.
Don’t even catch your breath.
Quicken your pace
My friend.
This exploration’s
Just begun.
We’re drowning
In diversity.
But everything
About this town
Is steeped in history.
Surprisingly,
Even my own.
But the things that
Were so fascinating
When I was a child
Have lost
Their glimmering
Appeal.
You see,
I’ve come to this place
Throughout
Most of my childhood.
Spending summer vacations
In a youthful,
Ignorant,
Bliss
At my uncle’s
Waterfront cabin.
Now,
It’s ironically humorous
To me
That I have lived here
For over two years.
And oh!
How things have changed!
It’s nearly impossible
For me to name
Every way.
But there is one thing
That brings
A smile to my lips,
Causing me to
Remember
A long forgotten
Innocence.
Would you guess
That it
Is the old train
Out front of the post office?
I used to adore
That thing as a kid,
Coming into town with my
Uncle to pick up
Necessities for the fire.
Sweet nostalgia.
But enough
Of my past…
There are things
That I want
You to see.
Side step a passing stranger.
Would you guess
That she is a teenaged mother?
Her youth
Was snatched away
The moment
That she found herself
Expecting a baby.
The result
Of one night of “fun”
Perhaps, gone too far.
But there was
No going back.
And that girl,
She had to grow up
Too fast.
Travel down
A graveled road
With me.
Hear the chaotic jumble
Of blaring music,
The laughter
Of young friends
Fresh out of high school.
Off in the distance
A brutal fight
Has broken out
Over a drug deal
Gone bad.
But closer to home,
There’s something
More disturbing.
The screams of a little boy,
Beaten by his father
Because he just happened
To be there
During the fit
Of a grown man’s
Anger.
The neighbors
Close their blinds,
Lock their doors,
And do nothing
To help that child
Cowering in the corner
Away from raining fists.
Now is the time.
Break out into a run.
We have
To be back
Before the sun sets.
There are things
That must be done,
Responsibilities,
That have to be seen to.
It’s a school night
And tomorrow
Brings back the
Much needed
Sanctuary
For an overly
Worried mind.
A safe haven,
An escape
From someone else’s
Reality.
This town has become
My routine.
Everyday is the same.
Restless night,
Little sleep,
Fake a smile
When you want to cry.
Work hard.
Never quit.
Make something of yourself.
Elate in brief moments
Of true happiness.
The rarity of these events
Only mean that much more.
The night is upon us,
With ragged breaths
And aching feet,
Our quest has
At last
Come to an end.
This town…
Has become my town.
It is
My determination,
My torment,
My inspiration,
My desperation,
My truth,
My hope,
My home.
Shelton.
