When do we know

When do we know

There will be no return

To the old ways

When the days were long

The sky, higher than the sun

Which always dipped beneath it

Slipping between the nimbus

Creating its own halo

Beating down upon us,

Bare backs and strong shoulders

Glowing with the sweat of manual labour

Before machinery took the work of ten young men

Combines hired by the day

Farm boys' wages frittered away

On home-brewed beer

And freshly baked potatoes

Cooked in a firepit

The skin, a charcoal crisp

Which polished the teeth.

Brother’s leaned heavily on brother’s

To help meet expectations

Potatoes needed to be bagged

And carried away

Before the close of day

Whatever happened

To sour the wine

Dampen the spirit

Spill the blood?

So many brothers escaped the confine,

Heading off to seek a future

Far away from farmers' fields

And failing collieries

Moving with the times

Breaking free of the ties

That bound them to their kin

And to the land

But blood will still be blood

Times may change us

We no longer share the same burden

We carry ours alone

Too many sorrows soaked in regret

To bridge the man-made barriers to remembrance,

That bitterness maintains,

Fingernails are forever torn and broken

Not from heavy labour

But from trying to hold on,

When do we know

It is time to let go

When in truth,

No matter how dim or distant times may be

Blood will still be blood