They buried a farmer today,
Gave him back to the dirt from which he came.
Earlier his family and neighbours walk by.
Looking at the memories of a simple man's life.
A table of photos, toy tractors and cards.
Telling the story of life on the farm.
There are overals he wore everyday.
Expect on Sunday, when he bowed his head to pray.
All things that kept him close to his roots.
Not born in a barn, but not far away,
From the fields where a boy learned how to play,
There are photos of his children and grandchildren, to.
And he and his wife, there are more then a few.
The smiles betray the hard times that he faced,
The worries and fears, the profits erased.
By weather and markets, out of his hand;
In the end, all he really had was his land,
The soil, the crops, and even the weeds,
To his way of thinking, thats all he would need,
To take care of his family, and help them stay safe,
From a faster-paced world, not to far away,
A good life, a simple life, that's what he led,
He'd struggled like most, but came out ahead.
And eventually, retirement, if a farmer ever could.
Stop worrying or working, but he did it, for good.
He enjoyed his last years, and made sure that he thanked,
The good Lord above for his life, and his land.
His time ended quickly, his loved ones in tears,
Hoping he knew what he meant to them all through the years.
Today they gather, to remember and pray.
About a simple man they loved, who was there everyday.
Trough joy and sorrow, laughter and and pain,
He was there when they need him up till the end.
Out to the cemetery they carry him home, to a small plot of land.
For they know he's at peace, and praying for them.
As they stand on a slope, not far from his land.
The service now over they leave him alone.
Knowing some day, he'll greet them once more.
A dust cloud forms as the trucks drive away,
They buried a farmer today.
-
Unknown
Not a South African poem just a poem dedicated to all the farmers we've lost.
