Poetry

Afraid

By: Umar YB

Not in tilling the land,
in harrowing it or in
making the ridge.

Won’t be reluctant
to irrigate the fields when
the heavens are way stingy.

Burdens me not
to enrich the land
with dung and mulch.

My willing hoe
would weed the weeds
when the need to does arise.

But I fear, I do fear
sowing the right seed
In the wrong soil.

Where the yields
Will be lost to some unworthy
pests and deficiencies.

I am afraid
of burying my grain
in an inviting yet unwell ground.

I am afraid.

Categories: Poetry

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