FARM HANDS

Hoes and machetes cry
They swear they are being taken advantage off
They say no matter how they try
Succeeding days are still rough
Shortest hoe
Says he feels he’s the toughest though
Having lived and crashed with stones
Having flirted and birthed with different stones
Many sparks of fire in fold
Even the farmers knew before they sold
Him to young fingers
He claims he has seen many figures
Having travelled on many a shoulders
Like a king of eggs entrusted to many holders
But the others think he must keep quiet
As his work now is not quiet
What he says it was
The king of hoes ask for their patience
He says the rains will seize and bring them back to their conscience
That they eat nothing and dig always
Is but the fault of the flirting sky’s urine
With greedy earth
Machetes concur giving their gig
They will brave the stones
Slash trees no matter their hurting
Until the sky wears its pants
And save them the torture of everyday work haunts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015