Sweat And Blisters Poem by Uche Nwanze

The earth hard and soft puts food on the table. She swallows the seedlings tender and gives birth at harvest season.
Thick sweats running down my beard like raindrops. My palms adorned with scary
blisters and bloody sores.
Countless days under the hot scorching sun. Nights of waiting like a pregnant
woman.
Stubborn weeds bully the crops for water and nutrients.
My hoe and machete, my companions at
at my beck and call. Their loyalty knows no bounds to do my whims and caprices.
Making ridges and bridges navigating the length and breath of the theatre of vegetation.
I wait in anxiety for tear drops from the
heavens. Crops dying of thirst and growing pale. I pray to the god of the skies to spit down rain drops. So many mouths to
feed, hunger knocking at my doorsteps.
Alas! I see dark clouds gather in the skies. I jump in ecstasy like a babe at the sight of her mothers breast. My crops
relieved as they bath in the sweet wet
rain drops.
My days of waiting is over.
My blisters and bloody palms have disappeared. Hunger has bolted away cos my sweat and days of toil have paid off.
Yesterday, my sweat I lodged in the bank of hard work. It's my time to reap the dividends of my investment.
No more will I point to the heavens for the gods have heed my cry.
Today I dance to the symphony of the green land and the whistling of crops like grown ups.
Alas, the fruits of my sweat and blisters. Tomorrow is another day.
Let me savour the wealth of my bloody palms and heat of the scorching sun. I take the long journey, for the earth is indeed hard and soft but puts food on my table.