I was just in the diner where farmers gather to talk and update breakdowns and troubles.  Like a crazy with his shrink, these share their thoughts and fix-it ideas with each other.  And my brother seems to think no-till is the way to go to make his farm to prosper.  Spray the weeds with roundup and go ahead and plant, to keep in the better moisture.  And minerals.  But I am reminded of staples.  When pounding the u-shaped metals into post, sometimes a spark would fly, and the angle sent the staple a-flyin’.  Dad said to pick up lost staples, as cows tromp in same regions, even perhaps nibbling those fallen staples, too.  And I have to think after three weeks ago I stepped on a rotten, rusted wire that went through the sole of my shoe to my foot, the memory of staples un-removed, like sins unrepented.  They stay there to catch any whenever and poke at just the exact discomfort of time.

And so four summers ago, I spent many days and hours removing lost barbed wires from parts of the pasture, as also diseased bones that could scatter diseases.  Trying to effectively cleanse and clean my soul through such activity.  Burying a dead horse with gravel, as I tried to cover those ribs sticking so high in the air.  Who knew the rib cage of a horse was so huge!  And even in a dead one at that!  And destiny beckoned me to bury.  Destiny beckoned me to hunt bones.  Destiny beckoned me to those wires.  Destiny beckoned me to cleanse my home.

I wish that I could relay.  I wish that I could tell.  I wish that I could speak in more ways than just prattle and yell.  The stories inside my soul burn.  There is never release.  Like a cauldron burning hot, just waiting for the moment to explode, as a meteorite striking the earth.  And, I the victim of my own emotions, continue to stir the flames hot.  My emotions will never do me any good if I bury and ignore them.  Life has branded me with temper, the same way I branded calves in the summer.


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