ExodusA Poem by Relic
A dented and paint-worn
red metal bucket half-full with water its spaghetti thin handle squeaky when lifted dug painfully into the fingers of the aged man's callused hands his face leather-like almost as wrinkly as his stained and dirty over-all's from years of farming slightly off-balance he struggled to tilt and fill all he could into the dilapidated truck's warm radiator without spilling a drop praying silently it gets him and his family to California - 100 miles further on route 66 people spoke of jobs, plenty of them far from dust-soaked air from degradation and poverty half-way there the dream ended in steam that rose to heaven like smoke signals for help Jesus saves read a nearby billboard with hope and persistence feeling as rotten as parched soil and a lump in his belly as big as Oklahoma no one prayed more to Jesus that night than an aged man with callused dry hands
© 2024 RelicAuthor's Note
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Added on May 29, 2024Last Updated on May 29, 2024 Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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