Broken earth

This poem has been a little while in the writing. The idea for it came from a conversation I had with my friend Kate Creatif in which I mentioned the Australian mining town Broken Hill.

Broken Hill
If you drive far enough
you will arrive at the Silver City
built on eight hundred deaths
and promises of riches aplenty.
It's the kind of rugged place
where opportunity rubs shoulders
with a history of malice
that at times still smolders.

It is a dug up place, a Broken Hill
where both earth and souls are rendered asunder
and a full pouch of silver brings thrills
but is spent before the next day rolls under.
Yes, it's a mining town
now limping along
trading on past renown
and a half forgotten union song. 

Photo by Rachel Claire on

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