Author: Unknown
Come kiss heaven's hand and give a warm embrace;
Soil the roots of wisdom unto this desolate earth.
A barren land you blisfully sow high hopes,
plant with joy a prosperous toil reaped with dirty bones.
Sacred be your pastures green labored hard and long;
Blessed are the grounds in which you now step upon.
For valued is the meadow that your hard-work built,
nothing is ignored now for decent work dispels all guilt.
The spirit does appreciate burning blood and tears;
and blistered hands of effort-fetched by arduous years.
Rewarded be the sweat of a field worker,
for bountfiful is the fruit of his labor.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2009
About this poem:
Most people (ignorant, so to speak) immediately assume that all hispanic immigrants are good for nothings, that they belong in the rice fields. Little do they know, hispanics in general are labor ready workers, hard-workers, willing to sacrifice whatever it is necessary to provide their families with daily food. They're underpaid and disrespected, this poem was written in honor of those great men whose fruit is the product of their labor.
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