Friday, January 3, 2014


Image from here

When they ask what has become of you, what will we say? We sowed, but we have yet to reap.

We want to get for our give. You have grown big on our sweat, and your leaves are a bright green. Your trunk is thick and hard. But where are your fruit?

They all saw us tending you, breaking our backs to shield you from the sun, swallowing our saliva and watching with hunger-dimmed eyes while you ate the food of our sacrifice. The words on our lips were a prayer: ‘she will feed us someday. She will bear fruit and feed us someday.’ Someday has come.

It is harvest time, but now we have found ourselves in the company of those who did not sow. We are all chewing the insides of our cheeks together. The others say nothing, but they do not need to; their eyes do the talking. They ask: where is this harvest that was prophesied to come? We have no answer.

Have you made us into fools? The visions we had, of all the things you would bring for us, make of us, have they now turned around to mock us, dancing with teasing steps far beyond our reach? Have we spent our strong years trying to make a basket hold water?

Revive us. Raise our heads. We have done our part.

It is harvest time.


  1. This piece reminds me of the current day church. Wouldn't it be a b$#@h if you were writing about the same? Sad reality it is.

    1. Hmm, not exactly. But don't they say that once you out writing out there it takes on a life (and meaning?) of its own.

  2. What I think of instead is parents waiting for their investments in their children to yield.. Or maybe because my parents' harvest time for me is drawing near.

  3. I feel this so much! And it puts so much pressure on you to begin to germinate...Have they considered however, that that which they planted as yam was really just a flower, not to feed the stomach but the eyes instead...

    1. Good point. I'll bet they wouldn't have put that much effort into flowers if they'd known. But even flowers have their value.

      Thanks for reading.