Jeremiah's Fields of Hope

Jeremiah left me to plough the fields One morning in planting season I remember the day he went away Though I've never understood the reason The sun caressed his chocolate skin His face missing its beautiful smile Wrapped in his finest suite He held his Sunday hat in his hands Walking on his way, as he passed me by He turned to give me a stare No touch, no kiss, no hug goodbye Just the love that I must have imagined As his eyes fix on mine Jeremiah left me to plough the fields One morning in planting season I remember his words so clearly Perhaps I should have known better When he spoke them so sincerely He said: ‘If I’m not back by noon tomorrow, Esmeralda, plant our seeds of hope. Let the corn spring forth from the dust And bare the food to feed our people. It won’t be long now before they come, The angels, they speak of freedom. Get the beds ready for the children, And set the books out on the shelves.’ As he had long foretold Our people, they did come In time to harvest the tender labour Of Jeremiah’s Field of Hope Since that morning in planting season he never did return ‘til 51 years later, when my body searched for death As I breathed my final breaths he came to hold me hand He never did say why he left But the answer didn’t matter For the tears that streamed down his face Riddled with lines of regret Told that in all his absent year He carried me in his heart just as I did him in mine