I was saddened this morning to see on Facebook, that another battling farmer in Australia took his life after having to put his remaining starving cattle out of their misery. In order to bring light to the plight of those like him, (who are still battling) I ask that you share this poem in honour of all of those struggling through hardships on the land in hope that they too will find the Faith to carry on and I thank you all in advance for your help. Without Faith He looks out upon the baron land And sighs a breath of pain His hopes, his dreams, his livelihood Been crushed from lack of rain. His finances diminished His stock a dwindled band And he feels like a helpless onlooker As life slips through his fingers like sand. A young man of forty deplenished Though still young he is ravaged by stress His marriage and bond with his children Is at crisis point, put bluntly, a mess. How can he be all that he needs to? How can he give more when he’s spent? Physically and emotionally To the grindstone his life has been bent. Inheriting the family property Twenty years of keeping tradition alive Shouldering debt and commitments Now he finds he has no strength to strive. His childhood sweetheart Martha With darling children Lilly and Tom Have travelled away for the weekend To visit her sickly mum. With trembling hand he holds the pencil That signed the letter from the bank And as he wrote to wife and children His heart and spirit sank. “These words I write, I could not speak Or look you in the face The man I was, I am no more I’ve neither strength, nor pride, nor grace. Martha, dearest Martha I have failed you in this life Though I have toiled and worked relentlessly I know I have let down my darling wife. Too proud to stick my hand out And accept charity from others Too stubborn to leave this blasted block And now I feel strangled and smothered. I promised for good and for bad I promised till death do us part I promised to protect and care for you I’m so sorry, down deep to my heart. I have no more to offer I have no more to give And my final wish my darling Is that you will truly live. Move back to town with your father Let him care for you and our kin And please, alway’s remember I love you And please, please forgive me my sin. My gorgeous little Lilly The apple of my eye Remember our good times together When you think of me, smile, please don’t cry. Young Tom, you’re the man of the house now Take care of our special girls And heed the mistakes of your father Oh my little man, I wish you the world. You children have been a blessing Please do not carry blame My fate is not your doing Please carry on my name” Through tears of pain and anguish His saddened eyes look out To a calf without his mother She too been struck down by the drought. His letter not quite finished But his duty must be done He puts down his trembling pencil And replaces it with gun. The chamber ready loaded Prepared for fateful deed But as he looked upon the sickened calf He felt this beast had greater need. He would empty out the chamber To protect the calf from a death more grim Reload the gun, switch off the safety And do the same for him. A swift shot to the temple Was the way he’d alway’s done So he walked to head off lonely calf Beneath the beating son. The calf was struck with sickness Snotty nose and wrought with scour He’d gone without a drink of feed For many sun scorched hour He ran his hand along calf’s bony back Laced with scabbed skin from the sun Wiped the tears away from bloodshot eyes And raised the trembling gun. The calf, two weeks of age and stunted Weak and battered down by life Surges forward, head butts the farmer He would not die without some strife. “Come back here you foolish youngster You’ll be better off this way Your fates like mine, we’ve both been doomed Let’s end it here today” He jogs up to the calf’s hind end And grabs him by the tail Then the calf kicks him in the stomach And with a strengthened run set sail. Over the dam bank down to the moistened earth Where the water used to lay He trotted out towards the middle Then got stuck, that’s where he stayed. The farmer trudged out through the mud and slush And sank down to his knees Placed the barrel tip to calf’s young head Then the trigger he began to squeeze. The calf threw his head back left and right Knocked the gun from out of his hands His body weak, yet his eye was bright And it seemed he had other plans. Within the stare of this young sick calf He could feel the heart of a fighter And he shook his head at his own disbelief Then he cuddled the little blighter. As he walked from the dam with the calf in his arms He knew that he too must fight For though life was grim it was better to live For his children, himself and his wife. He took the calf inside and bathed him Then set him down beside the fire That he started with the letter Then he heard the crunch of tyres. His family had come back home He welcomed them with joy And said “Oh it’s great to see you all Come meet the little boy” The children were ecstatic As they fed and cuddled calf Their dad had named him Faith And they couldn’t help but laugh. The family grew back together Moved to town and changed careers And if you pass their front yard, say hi to Faith Their healthy full grown steer. Written by Guy McLean In honour of the men, women and children on the land fighting hard in endless days of drought and difficult times. Copyright Guy McLean February 2008.
Posted on: Fri, 17 Jan 2014 14:09:04 +0000
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