We, who sow the tiny seeds
that grow and become
the delicious food
you put on your lavish table,
we are the ones who are full with hunger.
We, who man the boats
under the sweltering heat
of the noontime sun,
who live near the stormy seas,
angry lakes and raging rivers,
we are the ones who drown of thirst.
We, who ride the winds at your bidding
and scour the endless skies for you,
we are the ones who choke from the poisoned air.
We, who melt the iron and gold and silver
which you took from the fiery wombs
of the distant lands of our forebears,
we are the ones meet our ends as smoldering ashes.
While you wine and dine
on our sweat and toil
and blood and life
and loudly curse us and laugh at us
for being
too slow
too dumb
too weak
too poor
and too powerless,
we patiently bide our time
and determinedly build our strength.
Your day will come;
these horrible chains that you used to tie us up
will be the last thing you will see.

(Photo by Mark Saludes, Hacienda Luisita, Philippines, 2017)

Advertisements