The Hymn of the hands.

in poetry •  5 years ago 

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Greetings earthlings, it is me again, as is the custom I want to continue offering you a daily publication, yesterday I could not do one because I had to go early to my land, I managed to hire 2 workers for a task and they will help me weed a little, now I finished half and I can plant like this some item, it could be some grain of medium plant like corn or beans. I am going to continue cleaning because I am still missing half, my wife's part another hectare more, that I must work a little harder, although half is easy but the other I must remove the roots of a weed called Gamelote that gives a lot of work, but I already did it in the middle, now it will be easier, if it is done once, then everything looks much easier, hahaha, and in one of those I took a break, over there under an expensive tree that gives me a good shade , with that strong breeze that messiah made me this poem that I want to share with you today:

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The hands bleed, because the earth is an eagle that before the summer of time, its plumage has become dry, its curved beak prevents it from blooming.

Your hands bleed, the earth looks for a nest to retreat to and plucks its feathers, hits the beak with the stones until it comes off.

The hands bleed, there naked and although this against nature looks beautiful naked, that nudity will bring a new rebirth of feathers, you are that they will bring a new flight of a new beak that alienates the peace of its rebirth of time.

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His hands bleed, and at night they complain, his back supports him in that riot where the body has a drumming of other complaints.

The hands bleed, and despite the complaints, they follow the rhythm of that wind that allows the eagle to be reborn, which will once dress in green feathers.

The hands bleed, because time is another, another path where the arms are filled with scratches of life, this one that changes the rhythm.

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The hands bleed, but every day less, because that blood is the phenyl that is reborn with more energy in time.

The hands bleed, yes, they must bleed with effort, so that the new green is the medal on their neck.

The hands bleed, hopefully they bleed in many lands so that the green one feeds the towns.

When we all assume that the earth is the bosom that gives milk and nourishes humanity, we will stop being so arrogant and our hands will bleed with joy, to prepare that earth in equilibrium, everything that will always be: earth, sun and water, no will carry chemicals, just love.


Camera: Panasonic lumix DMC-FZ50.

Lent: Leica 1: 2.8-3.7 / 7.4-88.8.

Location: Villa de Cura.

Original photographs of willsaldeno, I do not edit the photos, because I like to put only what I achieve with the camera and not something improved with an editor.















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