Sharpened And Oiled-Poem

Got myself a Barlow.
Who knows where it’s been?
I found her unkept,
rusted,
marked by neglect—

A forgotten scrap of metal,
left in a tool-box
that’d become a crypt.

I recall the history—

A trusted companion of
West-ward seeking pioneers
and American boys.

I set out to clean,
and polish
so that it
could be put
back to work.

My “sure-enough” Barlow,
sharpened and oiled,
cuts again.

EDC—Every Day Carry

I carry my soul on my back,
I carry the memory of my father’s untimely death.
I carry the love of my children’s laugh.
I carry the weight of my next rent that’s due.
I carry the moves made to Texas, Oregon, Kentucky, and Georgia, then making my way back.
I carry the memory of good times and hard times.
I carry the manifold wrinkles of age under my eyes.
I carry the reality of what’s wrong with this world.
So I sharpen my knives slowly methodically—each stroke wet stone soaked with fears.
The memory of brothers-in-arms lost overseas, burdens laden with tears—
Everyday I carry things.
Everyday a new burden is laid on my scared back.