DAUGHTER OF THE TOILING CLAN

Say,
Daughter of the Toiling Clan
the Cockerels scramble
to split your eardrums
their competing crows
announce yet another Dawn
the Communal farms lie Untouched
the crops choking in weeds
anticipating the monotonous efforts
of your wilting muscles
will you not to the routine rise

soon the babes will yell
pangs of hunger to quell
the cattle too must graze
for they too demand your care
a dose of your tenderness to share
will you not relieve them Mama

the relentless sun awaits
your tired skin to scorch
now you traverse distant hills
for the water you too must fetch, still
when do you rest your frame Mama

I saw you the other day
bent upon the forested paths
unthorning your cracked feet
singing of hope and joy and happiness

Ooh Daughter of the lowlands
a bundle of firewood lay still beside you
against approaching night you will rush
lest the drunkard goes into
spasmodic fits of infantile rage
and you spend the night by the granary!

say Mama,
Daughter of the toiling clan
when do you rest Mama
When

© November 2009