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.


Even my own.

But the things that

Were so fascinating

When I was a child

Have lost

Their glimmering


You see,

I’ve come to this place


Most of my childhood.

Spending summer vacations

In a youthful,



At my uncle’s

Waterfront cabin.


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


A long forgotten


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


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,


That have to be seen to.

It’s a school night

And tomorrow

Brings back the

Much needed


For an overly

Worried mind.

A safe haven,

An escape

From someone else’s


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.


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