Penned these thoughts with dirty labour,
Pins in notes that ‘I don’t care,’
Seamless anger from some beauty
Puncture wounds sent out from hell.
In the darkness holes they filled me,
Holes that filled this empty well,
Then some word spread far from danger
Spoke some truth that I can’t tell.
So I tried my pen to motion
And scribed nothing I could sell
Cause her word contained no letters,
No symbol that I can spell.

By her one breath broke these fetters
Giving strength to help end well.
Now these scars are not unfitting,
I have learned to bear my shame,
And for all those that are hurting,
I know I’m the one to blame.
It is hard now in this moment
Not to grow weary from the hurt
I wish now that I could fix you,
But my words are filled with dirt.

On the backs of those around me
Won’t trust my thoughts in light again,
So by her word that is so precious,
I declare that I have sinned.
So to death I put my old ways
To begin to live again:

In her word that broke these fetters
Penned my will to exude good,
I strive now for absolute beauty
For the world to be understood.

– Christopher Dumitru


5 thoughts on “Dirty Labour – Poem

  1. Are you familiar with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem The Song of Hiawatha? My mother used to read it to me when I was a child, and I haven’t read it since, but I noticed that your poem has a similar meter. Dirty Labour has a mournful power to it. I’ve read it through several times and I enjoy it more with each reading.
    In case you haven’t read Hiawatha, here is a link to an excerpt:

    Liked by 1 person

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