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Eddy Duhan

of

Speers, SK, CA

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Whitewood and Redberry

by

Eddy Duhan

This old house is still standing,
On the hillside of the prairie.
In the Whitewood and Redberry,
Like a fragrance of a memory.
From prairiewool to wheatdust,
It carried you away-
And if these grey boards could talk,
I wonder what they'd say?
"Life is a circle,
And we all come back here someday..."

Now buried in the tall grass,
These combines and tractors,
Cement truck and ambulance.
Stoves and refrigerators.
Junk cars and lawnmowers,
Blacksmith shop and usless tools,
Barking dogs and rusted gears.
To hunters and collectors-
Life is an auction,
Who bargain to buy back the years.

So I've come back to this land,
To search for memories of my father.
The beam that held up the house,
Servant of God and master carpenter.
Yet the things I seek to know,
Are the things I've always known.
Like this rail under the roadbridge.
Till the crooked be made straight-
Life is a doorway,
You can never pass through the same way again.