Farmer’s Prayer
Seasons – passing Phantoms
before my eyes,
mixed up – overlapping enough
to confuse my budding crops.
Like my forefathers
I tried to follow the
pattern, hoped just to
keep their sense and
change the air, water, dry soil,
but, it happened otherway.
Five years have
struggled by without rain,
dried field, dried up wells
my oxen, cows showing
their ribcage,
All hopes for good days
vanished from my mind.
Days seem long when spent
in idleness or grief.
my heart aches at every dry day-break.
When I walk miles to gather a pitcher of water, I Pray,
sensibly for some rain, but unheard goes the prayer, for
He speaks in different language.
Thriveni C Mysore is science teacher from Karnataka, India. She loves Nature poetry, Philosophy before all other things.
