God...

If it is not too humiliating
to ask...
how I’d also like to rest.
How I’d like to find time to laze
and to make love.
How I’d like to stray amidst the fields
and run free.
to savor the feeling of life...

But I remain silent as is my destiny.
Because I may not ask.
I am not given the chance of freedom.

I pull the plow
beneath the sun.
As did
my mother and my father
before ne.
Silencing their humiliation.

The wind is thin.
A consoling breeze
soothes thirst for a moment.

I wait for night to fall
when locked in my stable
I sink nto merciful sleep
to dream…
Along with thousands and thousands
of other slaves
who bound to a plow
have created
the world of Man.