Centralia
the sun exposed
above mountain's edge
through the folds
of dawn's rise
carmine sky erupts
mimicking fire
that burns beneath
in the crisp morning
the earth gasps in breaths
of pallid air
as it rises from the cracks
of asphalt and dirt
the smell of sulfur lingers
the narrow streets are unkept
a few stone walls remain
at the edges of driveways
where houses once stood
the cemetery sits on the hill
behind a weathered fence
yet the grounds are well maintained
if you walk passed the edge of its lot
a mound of dirt well traveled
hides an abandoned highway
about a mile long stretch
still divided, guardrails intact
the danger, no trespassing signs
won't keep the people out
the colors allure
fascinating you
with the graffiti
that covers every inch
while hundreds more
walk daily
down that forbidden path
looking for a place
between the buckles and folds
to have their story told
on the highway of fame
(centralia is a place in pennsylvania where a coal mind started to burn under the earth...people were forced to sell their houses to the state and the few that stayed are allowed to remain but cannot sell or will their houses to anyone, upon their death they state will get the houses! it still burns but less fierce then it once did. they have removed the signs from the highway but once you get close it's easy to get gps to lead you there and when you see people and vehicles line the road by the cemetery, there is the highway, partially hidden by a mount of dirt that was supposed to keep trespassers out~)
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2019
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