Seeds of the Unheard

An exigent noise rumbling,

Amidst the cacophony, muffling

Requesting to be heard;

That their demands be served

Those who feed the nation remain hungry,

Those who enrich the lands stay rooted in poverty.

It is not but an irony;

Heavy is the burden this sector carries.

Backs are breaking, dues are heavy

Can’t pause even if they’re tired or thirsty.

Even tiny hands and wrinkly feet are muddy–

Under extreme weather, they toil tirelessly.

Inputs are high, but the products are low,

Debts pulling them further below.

Can’t escape this rabbit hole even if they hold a hoe

Is there genuine support the government can bestow?

Hard-labored harvests, sold cheap or left to waste,

“There is an oversupply,” they say in haste.

Yet what looms is importation’s reign —

In a land that could nourish its own gains.

It is but a paradox of abundance,

That this rich country suffers from poor governance;

How can a land abundantly rich

Have its own cultivators impoverished?

Its policies are poison to the nation–

Lowered tariffs, agrarian ‘reform’, financial ‘assistance’ and importations–

Never enough to fix an incorrigible section,

For these are not genuine, not even a solution.

Its own government feeds on neglect,

Under the guise of agreements or projects –

For its own gain, it brown-noses –

Truly, the agricultural sector’s interminable pest

When the seeds of unfathomable oppression were planted,

No polished high gates nor walls meticulously decorated;

No senate halls nor rooms will be left unturned;

For rumbling stomachs and people’s woes, screaming to be heard.

From furrows deep to avenues wide,

Their voices sow what hunger cried.

No longer tilling soil alone,

Their placards plow the city stone.

An urgent rumble fills the air,

Amid the growl of deep despair.

Let the political circus drama fade and drop–

The people’s demands be placed on top.