A modern walkway
traces the edge of a canal
cut long ago by hands that came from
Ireland, Québec, Germany,
immigrants all,
thousands,
chasing a promise they could barely name.
Pick and shovel, mud and muscle,
earth hauled away by horse and wagon,
four and a half miles carved over forty‑five years.
How many were lost to the work
no ledger will say.
Still the water moves,
carrying their sweat, their stories,
their unrecorded prayers.
Oil on a 16 x 20 inch canvas
