Diggers

Three rows of men lined a field
Arranged by age and social status
Young men and boys lined the first row
Holding shovels and digging
The next row was filled
With old men
Who no longer posessed the strength
To dig like a young man
So they watched and offered advice
As I dug my hole
An old man told me to pace myself
To drink plenty of water
And to always stay positive
But I found it difficult
When I saw a well dressed man
From the third row
Load his pistol
Point his weapon
To the back of the old man's head
And squeeze the trigger
Showering me with my mentor's mind
The old man fell into the same hole
He taught me to dig
And I buried him
Wearing his blood
Wearing his brain
Wearing his shattered skull
Knowing someday my strength will wane
And it will be my turn
To teach children how to dig