Workers on their Way Home, 1913
by Edvard Munch
Grief, a solid rock
Lodged in the quarry’s pit.
Immovable, unbreakable
Coated with a thousand nights.
Burrow around it all you like,
Wander above for hours on end
But one has to,
At the end of however distracted a day,
Clamber wearily down,
Down into that solitary cave.
A cave so full,
Full of that stubborn solid rock
Lodged in your quarry’s pit
Letting no air in, no light.
How many little people?
Pressed against
How many monstrous rocks?
A wretched underground orb.
