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Life in the Patch

A poem by Tasha Woroschuk
Tasha Woroschuk

Weeks before road ban and all through the shop,

Not an employee was stirring, not even the mop,

Three rigs as they were all tucked in their beds,

While visions of higher oil prices danced in their heads.

OPEC, price cuts and layoff woes for more than a year,

Depression-filled doom and gloom is all we now hear.

Auctions are busy, the patch slowing down,

It’s really no wonder why our faces now frown.

“Hang On”, they say, “It’ll only get better”; Could it get much worse for the common debtor?

Those that have spent hard-earned money on toys and loot,

Are now collecting EI and dust on their boots.

Those who have endured it before shake their heads in dismay,

“That’s life in the patch,” is all they can say.

No real explanation why we can’t level things out,

We all watch in horror as corporations scream and shout,

“Cut back your costs, your rates and your spends,”

Do it now or your business might end,

Up on the auction block amongst many others,

Some of them wishing they’d followed their druthers,

To be something else and follow their dreams,

Instead of this patch life full of losses and schemes.

Please bow your heads, for if we all pray,

We might see it through to another bright day.

The patch is my life, the one that I love,

I’m not quite ready to toss in my gloves.

For on these feet my boots they will stay,

Cuz I’m made of tough stuff

God made me this way.