Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Do you?

Do you know
I sometimes
ridicule your freedom
When you wind your alarm
to begin tomorrow
Waking at its lousy bell
Adorning that jacket
polished shoes
ironed shirt et al
Didn't you
tell me
you are a farmer's son
Tell me
you are a farmer?
Carrying that phase
like a badge
repeating that tired phrase
A farmer
who measure
his days with milestones
A farmer
with no use for seasons
Rummage the soil
with your bare fingers
if you find your soul
I agree
you are free
free as the farmer
you wanted to be

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