My back is a farmland

It has been ploughed and hoed

Since time began,

And the Might earthly Lord Southbound

Stretched his hand.

Likewise, my thighs has been

Repeatedly threshed

To yield new seeds

To take care of the old flesh.

Water has never been an issue

Inside me deep rivers run through the tissues.

The problem however, my hands being manacled,

unlike the boss,

Unable to perform deft miracles,

Thus, in the pool of my own backyard

I keep drowning and hit the murky ground.

The farmland being my back

Granted, though it is well taken care by the ducts

I have never been able to touch, see

Nor harvest the products.

I am a slave as I was then,

The chains of bondage, as yet

have not been broken.

Copyright Haileselassie Girmay

26/7/2000