The Black Soil Country.(In Memory Of A Mate) Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

Well I sank way down to the axles
Her belly floating on the black soil
Up there in the lost country
1000 miles north of no place
Do I walk out or stay
and dig her out maybe

No point waiting for rescue
No one is going to come
I chose to do this on my own
I am not due home for months
The hawks and eagles circle
Not yet my children I yell

And the black crow
Swears and laughs at me
And I laugh back
Because you see
You have to be crazy
To come out here on your own

But I am happily a lunatic
And what is meant to be just is
So I sit the shade of my truck
And I contemplate the ants
And the dust and the heat
And I say to Death come on
Here I am mate
But I hope you are busy and
Have others to attend to first.