The Harvest
Penchusee L. Cefola
People say I am your clone
My voice is yours and my face, too
My heart says I'm your stranger
And sometimes your enemy.
You say daughters belong to others
No use to get attached.
When I ask
Am I my mother's daughter?
You say,
Why ask this question?
I ask why I am so unloved
You say daughters belong to others
No use to get attached
Where is love?
People say I take after you,
The wisest man in town,
I do and achieve all you planned for me
Yet I fail to bring you pride.
You say I must do more,
I am tired I say
But you repeat I must do more,
That I have brothers and sisters
Who will measure against me
I am tired and hungry
Where is love?
You grow up and disappear,
No longer brothers and sisters
But strangers.
Yet when we come together
We pour our hearts out
I cry
For your happiness, your miseries
You laugh
When you hear my life's trials
Saying I need no sympathy
That I am the oldest, toughest, meanest
You say I lack nothing you can give
Not even tenderheart nor care
Then you disappear again
To reappear when something's needed
This giving has aged me
Where is love?
You found me in my agony,
Gently planted me a thousand miles away
In simple Paradise
You rid me of my hunger and thirst
You gave me him
Who gives me love
Willingly, unconditionally
Constantly, everlastingly.
What I gave away
Was brought back and
Blissfully accepted.
Forever grateful for Your grace I
have found Love It is mine Mine
for keeps.
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