Sticks and Stones

[couchgrouch]

Sticks and StonesGrew up in the sticks in a small log homeI'd hide out down at Pine Lake skipping stonesMama wanted a fireplace for the wintertimebut Dad thought our woodstove worked just finestill, he'd drink a few at night and sayhe'd build her one somedayyeah, we were poor folk and like some rich folk dokids laughed and kicked pebbles on my old shoesso I'd watch that lake and hear their hard wordsand how Dad said they could never hurtlike sticks and stonescos words can't touch flesh and boneand if we're strong, we'll live on, far beyondsticks and stonesDad's old transistor blasted Haggard and Joneshe'd curse me for liking Styx and the Stonesone day he sent me to the woods by the laketo fetch rock for Mama's fireplaceI came home with my wheelbarrow piled highfound her alone...George's songs watching her crywhen she was buying feed at the General storesome drunks made sport of the faded dress she woreDad grabbed a knotty branch hard as a ballpeen hammerand taught them drunks some country mannersyeah, sticks and stoneswords can't touch flesh and boneand if we're strong, we'll live on, far beyondsticks and stonesjustice ain't always met, but vengeance don't forgetmonths later shadows crept around our shackbirds jumped their pines, just before suppertimewhen Dad took two barrels in the backwe made a cross from wagon spokesand laid him in a field for poorer folkthe Sunday evening that we buried himour tears were salty wine sipped by the windMama saw Dad's soul in ev'ry crow and sparrowI heard him in Haggard songs and that creaky wheelbarrowthat Fall I laid Mama's fireplaceshe walked that field and found heaven's gracein sticks and stonescos words can't touch flesh and bonebut if we're strong, we'll live on, far beyondsticks and stones(c)2005 Robert George