Students - I wrote this poem out loud, vocally. Driving home from school yesterday, I flicked on the radio and heard the words, "...coal miners..." I do not even know what the rest of the sentence said. But instantly, I flicked off the radio and began writing in the air with my voice. Somehow I knew what to write about.
I repeated each line over and over again, playing with sounds and meters until I finally found a place to stop my car - a tiny post office. And in its darkened parking lot, I sat and jotted these lines into my notebook.
Stories about trapped coal miners haunt me, and I sometimes think about the bravery of people who work in physically dangerous professions. Yesterday I wondered, "What might the child of a coal miner think when kissing Daddy goodbye?"
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