"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Poem: The Price Paid

Earth, seed, sun and rain,

Work together to give us grain,

Waiting and watching,

Caring, protecting and praying.

Putting off paying the bills

Until the crop is in the bin.

One never knows,

Fortunes can turn in an instant

With wind gone mad and hail,

Insects and drought,

Fire or disease.

Here is what you don’t see: Iron, sweat, muscle, heart and nerve

Working together, month after month, to bring the crop to harvest.

Long hours in the sun;

the abuse the body takes.

Chains, engines, oil, iron,

Pulling against plow and disc,

Bars and gears to do the work of many men, alone with a machine.
Hands are toughened into leather, Ripped, torn and tattered
from pulling the chain, the bar, the iron,
with climbing up and down and up again.
The grain is taken, shaken, sold,
The bills are paid and the cycle begins anew, each year unique
And a gamble.
All for the freedom to breathe free,
to walk at one’s own pace,
To answer to no master but God,
To touch the earth with kindness,
To lie down in a blooming meadow and gaze upon the stars or birds in flight.

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