The miners knew…
When dark dust clogged their pores,
Clouded their minds, and obscured their vision,
And necessity drove them back each day into the dark,
The sensitive canary would warn them of their danger
By being the first to die.

My heart today is aching. My ideals,
Bludgeoned by cynics, and beliefs, battered by lies,
Are choking on the gas of decomposing politics.
The sweet canary’s song is getting louder: “Get Out Now!”

But there is no way out.
Shafts of light are being plugged, one after another; and
The path we came by only goes one way.
We can shout with the last of our breath,
Claw at the rock with our nails, but
Who is there to dig us out?
We were to be our own protectors.

We go to work each day now, picking for peace and digging for justice,
Entering neath the faded sign: “pledged to be more perfect.”
“One for all” we chant as we march to our labors,
While our beautiful canaries are dying.