The Pest

We hear tragic stories of so many farmers who have given up - the rains have failed them, the crops have failed them, we have failed them...


Is there a difference
between me and a pest?

Not much I say -
I till the ground and sow the seed
All for my family to feed.
The pest swoops down and takes its share
It has its own burden to bear.

Is there a difference
between me and a pest?

Not much I say -
I depend on the rains
to reap a good harvest;
The pest - it depends on me,
and on the toil of my hands.

Is there a difference
between me and a pest?

Ah yes, a small difference I say -
The pest is blissfully unaware
that it is an uninvited guest.

But I, I am painfully aware
that in many eyes,
I am uninvited,
unwelcome,
a nuisance -
I am the true pest.

I can be swatted away
by powerful hands,
or tied to a string
to do another's whims.

No one cares
if the swatting hands
crush me to death.

No one cares
if the string is now
a noose around my neck,
a rope by which I hang,
helpless,
hopeless,
lifeless.

After all, I am the true pest.