Bread Of Sorrow Poem by Uche Nwanze

The hoe not my foe
Though my toe is weak
I bend and till the soil until she opens her mouth to swallow my seedlings
I break in rivers of sweat but I break not in my spirit but pregnant with hope for Ani the god of the earth to bless us with a bountiful harvest
Many moons have passed
Yet the sky hasn't shed a single tear
Wish I could tear down the clouds
The land have gone inebriate with the libation of my gin
Yet my oblation is an apparition
The Ageless Sun has smiled longer than she should
And our hearts are weary and teary of waiting
Alas! The heavens answered
An avalanche of tears like an inconsolable child
With painful excitement I watch my seedlings sprought into life
Buried beneath limbo
In darkness they were shrouded
And by the benevolence of the gods they break free from the cocoon of uncertainty
If they could breathe the air of freedom
Tares like the enemy besieging the gates
They lie in wait to sniff the life just birthed
Not even the menacing scarecrow could scare the stare of the fowls of the air
I ponder and I wonder if my green babies can live to see another day