one’s personal history
is collection of stories;
some you live through,
others you listen to
but all family stories
are part of our metal,
hammered and shaped
by past into present…
townspeople reckon
village blacksmith as
skilled craftsman and
“real good worker” but
self-respect can slide
like hot iron horseshoe
when own brood of
children run barefoot.
villagers whisper
behind callous hands
“it’s a real shame”
he drinks too much,
(and too often) so when
smithy dies penniless,
they bury him in back
corner of town cemetery.
lone unmarked grave
swallowed by prairie sod
yet remembered by God
and my grandpa, who
(as re-told by my father)
later paid for a small flat
stone to honor passing
of a hard-wrought life.
a poem in my pocket 
Jun 26, 2015 @ 23:01:59
… hammered and shaped by past into present … what a great phrase! Nicely done.
Jun 28, 2015 @ 19:58:42
Thanks, Candy!
Jun 26, 2015 @ 17:10:40
This is so well done, poignant–I love “hard-wrought life”, perfect ending.
Jun 26, 2015 @ 19:52:41
Glad you liked it…thanks for commenting!
Jun 26, 2015 @ 14:11:11
A touching tribute to a so-called ‘small life’, so often anonymous, that so much of our present wealth and well-being is built upon. A nice storytelling touch to it as well.
Jun 26, 2015 @ 15:14:06
Thank you, Marina; yes, those villagers depended on the smithy’s contribution.
Jun 26, 2015 @ 11:58:42
So touching..might we all have the dignity of identification and a stone.
Jun 26, 2015 @ 11:15:15
Well I am glad for the ending…It is very heart breaking to see unmarked graves ~ We should honor those hard-wrought lives ~
Jun 26, 2015 @ 11:21:56
Yes, every life has value.
Jun 26, 2015 @ 07:21:25
this is a very moving poem full of kindness and generosity….
Jun 26, 2015 @ 07:16:36
One has to wonder what he was trying to pound out of the hot metal of life that kept sliding like that horeshoe, how many debts he let go because of keeping someone else’s horse going. A wonderful and thoughtful read.
Jun 26, 2015 @ 08:00:51
I appreciate your comments here, Toni!