Farmer’s Resurrection Poem by Jayatissa K. Liyanage

Packed in sacks, aboard trucks at collecting center parlor
Getting dumped and buried in the wilderness grave,
are the precious sweat and tears, soul of pauper peasant
while his physique keeps contemplating in his dwelling,
talking to moon and praying for a next crop, evil spared

Jubilant ransom collectors of his sweat and blood’s worth
Being satisfied with their bulged out leather wallets
Merrily leave undertaker job in Municipality’s hands
Flies, craws, stray dogs and beasts, march on to the grave
For the last rituals to cadaver of deceased’s soul

The array of reticent intermediates on the way
who wouldn’t muse over anything to negate
But, perform day’s rite with tossing tumblers
within rotating fans’ turbulence in Tri-Star restaurant
in the twilight of reclining sun, in the western quarters

Land lord, money lender, adviser and machine owner
task worker, collector, transporter loader ‘n un-loader,
auctioneer, stockiest, center manager, vendor plus shop keeper
wouldn’t bother to meet in seven days for his alms giving
as its certain that pauper resurrects when next rain kisses his land