Arbeit Macht Frei
How we lay, as wooden men
Or how the tracks we built, set us free.
I crushed the rock.
We laid the tracks.
I stood inline
To lay me down.
My heart
In my sole
As no one watched.
How we lay
As wooden men
Railroad ties
In gauges broad.
We worked to free
In narrow gauge
The track to work
The work for home.
How we lay
As bolted men
In wooden bunks
The exact space
Of an arm.
I tied my all
All I owned
With my guts
No shoelace, none
In a handkerchief
On a pole.
I have to take
The track to home.
No whistles, or smoke
No steam, nor sight
I need to rest
A while
My tired bones
In the moonless night.
Of oak and beech
Pine and strong
But sleepers now.
How we lay
As wooden men
The stones above
Pinned us down.
On the track
The silver night
As we lay
As wooden men
The train came along.
The handkerchief
Now white, a sheet
Brought me home.
The food I owned
All I owned
Left behind
For the stones.
PS.
As for me,
I picked my nose.
Butter spread
on my toast,
I drank my tea.
I was free.
Over 13 million people
in rural India work for 100 days of guaranteed employment each year, laying amongst other things — railroad sleepers with their bare hands.
The rest of the year, they migrate to the cities for work.
For each day they get paid
Rs 182. This has increased by Rs. 20, because of Covid-19.
1 USD = Rs. 75
at the time of writing.
On May 8th, 16 migrants were run over by a train at night as they rested on the tracks on their way home.
