Common Field Hands Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

'And 'this' time...
Let me do all the talking.'

~Be my guest.
My suggestions...
Have already been rejected.
And your protests have long ago lowered,
My expectations.~

'And when we arrive...
It has been decided we should all pray.'

~Should we be on knees with heads bowed? ~

From one observed episode to another that grows,
Excessively clear with routines endeared...
Those with connected mindsets affected,
Remain on the same road to follow and sustain...
While assessing their needs that have not changed,
Find themselves less aggressive but more upset...
By what entraps them to comments made and expressed.
As if collectively an awakening has happened.

'And when we arrive...
It has been decided we should all pray.'

~Be my guest.
I've already confessed my indignations.~

No matter how they are dressed to impress,
Or address being upset...
They still head in one direction.
A direction long since paved but littered with denial.

What is lacking is a strength found in discipline rejected.
And when an identity is kept dissected,
A value is lost in its prospective to interject with effectiveness.
Regardless who achieves a dressing to impress opposition.
Common field hands or highly paid house workers...
All will gather to request,
Renovations done on a plantation...
Is given a respect from the owners to listen,
As to which colors to use to update the appearance.

'And 'this' time...
Let me do all the talking.'

~Be my guest.
My suggestions...
Have already been rejected.
And your protests have long ago lowered,
My expectations.~