Fruits of your labor

One week of the year 

They asked to give up.

To them this one week

Was more than enough.

An impact too deep

for words to describe

Just one week of the year

Could change their poor lives.

Salkehatchie they called it

If you work hard you will see

The fruits of your labor

Could set someone free.

I went on the trip

I road the bus for hours

Down to Beaufort county

With the dogwood flowers

I met some new friends

And laughed and had fun

And sang and smiled

Till the setting of the sun.

 

I awoke the next morning

at half past five

and I got on a bus

and soon I arrived.

A shabby old shack

stood, barely, in my wake

When I walked through the home

The whole floor seemed to shake.

The ceiling was patchy

The walls had broken through

The plumbing was broken

And the outlets were too

There lived a woman

With her second life partner

He was an odd old man

Who longed to be a gardner.

A single mint plant

Sat alone in the grass

His one prized possession

Littered with broken glass.

His wife was a shy one

She sat alone and she cried

For in that very house

Three loved ones had died.

 

Seven long days 

And seven short nights

I worked myself to exhaustion

Because I knew it was right.

One week of my life

A small price to pay

Changed the lives of that couple;

They had a safe place to stay.

It was hot those few days

and my body was aching.

But the floor of that house

Was no longer shaking.

The roof did not leak

And they had running water

And they had cold air

As the days grew hotter.

 

One week of the year

I’m glad i gave up.

To them, this one week,

was more than enough.

Salkehatchie they called it

If you work hard you will see

The fruits of your labor

Could set someone free.

The week was successful

It was beautiful to see

That their lives were changed,

And their lives changed me.

 

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