Farmer
Farmer
Calloused those hands,
like grey dried wood,
etched with the labor of years,
tilling earth and feeding crops with tears,
that forever upheld their lives.
A furrowed brow, heavy
the burden of life’s harsh resolves,
and nature’s whims the loss and wins of produce,
as seasons turn and work discerns
the plight of every yield.
How I hope for these souls,
invested in earth, their blood its very nutrient,
and all those years of loss and poverty,
earned back their resilience and stoic hearts,
unmoved from the start.
And so they endure,
scraping by each season, for their reasons,
hoping for weather to smile upon their fields,
and bringing home the yields so wanted
in their survival.
May God smile upon these simple folk,
that feed us, spare us the blood and tears,
so that our plates are full,
and may they be blessed
for their downright endurance:
hearts of the land.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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Good sentiments, Tony. I really feel for the farmers. In many cases their livelihoods that have been in their family for generations are being eroded and destroyed by drought and economic circumstances. Many are committing suicide or having to sell up and move to the cities. I feel and pray for them too.
Not an easy plight or choice given the circumstances. Glad you related John. Cheers!
Great sentiments. A farmer’s life is not an easy one but there are rewards that go with it especially when a really good harvest comes in. Will offer up a prayer to bring in a good harvest for the farmers.
Yes, I’m not sure I could be a farmer, but one must appreciate their tireless work and endurance. Thank Rasma.
Well said, Tony. I live in the middle of farm country and can see on a daily basis the struggle these tough folk go through. They deserve a word of praise and encouragement and you given just that!
Thanks Bill, glad you relate and enjoyed my thought. Take care my friend.
Farmers indeed are people we need to pray for and support. Wonderful verse, Tony, with great sentiments. I so appreciate this – my father was a farmer. Thank you for writing this poem.
A pleasure Phyllis, and most of us city folk take for granted the work that precedes our supermarket shopping. I have great respect for farming families and their struggle. Take care.