text: We stumble down early in the morning, pulled from our beds not a half hour before. The cold air cuts deeper in the early hours, and the pulleys and gears of the lift screech just that bit louder into my ears. I shake myself awake as much I can, humming along to the bird’s song. His cage is heavy, a great clunky thing that would give anyone a fright. He doesn’t let that stop him as he whistles away. We’ve only had this boy a week, after the fire in October he came in ready to put us to rights, his bright yellow feathers like a rainbow after a storm. Lord knows we need it. The deep blackness of the pit is often times a welcome break from the world above. We’re all stretched thin, and I feel worse than dirt on days when my only contribution is a black rock no bigger than my thumbnail. Still, my lamp burns bright in the darkness, and my boy still sings. Of course I can carry on. When it’s as dark as dark gets, it gives a man time to think. Time to worry in my case, as has been the case for the past few weeks since things turned sour. The wife wasn’t herself this morning, barely whispered a ‘god bless’ when she saw me on my way. I wandered past strangers in the drizzle and was greeted by grimace after grimace. Things are tough, I remember. Things are tough, and not everyone can see that rainbow just yet. I’m yanked out of the troubling depths of my head by the loud clang of the lift meeting the pit’s floor. My friend chirps, and I wonder what’s happening in his head too. He’s certainly not troubled, that’s for sure. I couldn’t imagine him ever crooning a lament over his beautiful melody. All these thoughts have filled my head fit to burst, and I stop to rub my dusty fingers across my temples before making my way to the rock. Chipping away at it can be peaceful on these days, just taking in the cool air and knock, knock, knocking at the wall. I know it’s nearly depleted. I know it every minute of every day but I’ll carry on until that day comes. My boy still sings, a soothing waltz now, which lulls my demons to sleep. Cheep, cheep, cheep. Knock, knock, knock. I steady my boots on the uneven floor and tumble down deeper into the dark, looking for that precious jewel. What was it Rogers had said this morning? They’d found a good stash of it the cave had hidden away the other day, when they were inspecting. Heaven knows where that was though, all I see is darkness and dark rock. The caverns spin around me and we nearly trip twice before I finally find the patch. She hadn’t wanted me to find it, and led me on quite a wild chase. It’s taken hours to get here. Ha! I think as I steady my hand to swing the heavy, heavy pick. Boy is it heavy, and boy am I tired. These early mornings have me in ruin, but finding the stash has made it all worthwhile. For days I stay, stuck to the wall. Greedily gathering the rock. I think of my wife, I think of Rogers and all of the solemn strangers I passed those months ago. I pray their troubles will soon disappear and I think of my bright boy. Most of all I think of his sweet song, and how much I miss it now.