strawberry fields soliloquy

scrawled 8.02.2009 by miss.abi | E-mail this post

Strawberry Field Soliloquy

The summer sun
plows a trail across the sky
and I
am bent low,
the heat burning stories into skin.
I am the emaciated dream
of past generations
in movement towards a future
that we have yet to taste.

For my tongue knows only of dirt and tears
and years of knees into ground,
hand thrust deep down into green,
find the buried treasure,
pick,
and repeat.

These feet have tread miles,
blistered and cracked,
yet my path leads me back
to the beginning of the line.
Each season
nothing seems to change but the time.

I water these fields with tears,
and harvest them with my sweat.
Can you taste it?
My blood,
in the deep red of the sweet flesh.
La fruta del diablo
The Devil's fruit
a top angel food cake,
bite in and feel the fields
bleeding onto your lip
dribble down chin
and drip.

Silent cries
you'll never recognize
as the solemn songs of my people.

Mi familia me llaman Esperanza
My family calls me Esperanza.
The name, it means hope
but I was born into a lie;
for so quickly it dies,
withered like the fruit
we didn't reach in enough time.

I am the silent fortress of deferred dreams,
the one born to change things,
the hope of the future,
but the hands of a slave,
for the devil's fruit
will always have its way.

Leaving my name
to rot
in strawberry fields
forever.