July 21, 2014
My day begins
With the kickstart of a motorbike
In a skirt to my ankles
I ride
The roads
Orange as New York October leaves
Filled with holes
I ride
The same route
Everyday
Takes us to school
The same fields line the way
Workers till the land
By hand
As I pass by
I watch the soil
Husk covered to red to brown
As the days pass by
Workers plant seeds
Lines of food
For the next harvest
I watch
Each new day
With the dawn of the morning
Life bursts from dirt
before my eyes
Green sprouts
Sprout forth
Towards the sun
Calling me to do the same
Standing taller
Each new day
Unaware of the wisdom they hold within
They follow their instinct
Shouting all that is true
To whomever will listen
Instinct
Brings the broken, dead, opened seed
To the light
Appealing to my own instinct
Calling me to do the same
My breath leaves my lungs
In a gasp
As if I should be surprised
This day
Yesterday or tomorrow
That such beauty comes from the ground
I am never prepared
For the wonder
The wind
Whispers to me
Turning my head to either side
"Look. Listen. This is Life."
The same whisper
That I hear
In my 5th floor apartment
When my plants bloom
In the spring
When the mulberries
Paint the concrete
As I walk
To school
"Look. Listen. This is life"
I do
Each new day
As though I never have before
This land
Deemed developing
By these people
By the world
Calls out to me
"Look. Listen. This is Life.
Tell me now that I am developing
Tell me? Could you make sugar cane grow?"
These women
Feed their babies
In the night
Rolling over and lifting an arm
The same babies
Tied to their backs
All the day long
As they do
All that they do
Unaware of the wisdom they hold within
These people
Take care of one another
Through the years
The threads of their lives
Forming one cloth
The water is dirty
The roads are unpaved
There is injustice
Yes
But the maize
reaches higher every morning
Singing its song
Of life
I look
I listen
Everywhere
This is life
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