The Soil Calls Them
Hardened hands food's gateway keep
Of hopes and fears is what they reap
A daily tightrope walk till night
Mindful of the bank's fists tight
Providing sleepy voters food
While deeper into debt for good
Hen halts sleep from bed a man
Who's been awake since four am
Plans with science old to last
Plant with full moon's shadow cast
A love affair with mother earth
Duty bound to food gave birth
Voters draw with business pen
While far behind forgotten men
Weather whipping night and day
While payers go up without delay
Why you ask a few good men
Allow this treatment as and when?
We think of them in time of need
Then ignore this pure good breed?
On their knees they wait in dark
A cow a sheep a time of stark
Same hands making food to girth
Save the helpless through to birth
Holding up a handful dirt
Feel the change hearts go flirt
That soil inside his very fist
Sings to some as love's kiss first
You don't breed farmers by a law
You don't law men to gather straw
Nature calls them by their name
Their hearts are won by nature's game
Arno Le Roux 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poem, Arno. Thanks for sharing Peace