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The Farmer and the Herdsman

I wait for mercy, for a sign, A word before my end of time.

By Sebastian HillsPublished 12 months ago 1 min read
The Farmer and the Herdsman
Photo by Richard Nyoni on Unsplash

I was just a farmer, twenty years old,

Waiting for my first child to hold.

What did I know of fights and blades?

Just crops to plant, the land to raise.

Why did he come with a knife in hand?

Did he see me as a thief on my own land?

Should I have run, let him take my life?

Is it a crime to fight and survive?

They took me away, locked me inside,

Seven years of waiting, no chance to hide.

When they judged me, they said I should flee

Should I have died to keep my hands clean?

Ten years lost, my daughter grows,

A child I've never come to know.

Does she hear my name with shame?

Am I just a story filled with blame?

Would they hang me if they knew my fear?

If they felt a knife so close, so near?

If they were there on that dusty farm,

Would they let the blade do harm?

I fought to live, is that a sin?

Should I have let the knife sink in?

Is justice blind or does it choose

Who gets to win, who gets to lose?

I wait for mercy, for a sign,

A word before my end of time.

Can they see a man who tried to live?

Is there no room left to forgive?

About the Poem

Sunday Jackson, a hardworking farmer, was brutally attacked by a herdsman on his own farm. The assailant, armed with a knife, left Sunday with no choice but to defend himself. In the ensuing struggle, Sunday was forced to take the life of his attacker.

Despite acting in self-defense, Sunday was arrested and jailed for over a decade. During his incarceration, he was denied the opportunity to meet his unborn child, and his wife, unable to cope with the situation, left him.

In a shocking turn of events, the government has now decided to pursue capital punishment, seeking to hang Sunday for an act of self-defense. This devastating outcome has raised questions about justice, morality, and the protection of human rights.

sad poetrysocial commentary

About the Creator

Sebastian Hills

Sebastian Hills weaves words like a storyteller sitting by the fire, turning thoughts into poetry that lingers in the mind. Inspired by history, culture, and everyday life. I also Found a Media Company Villpress

Visit: www.villpress.com

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  • Ann ☕️12 months ago

    Oh my 😢😭 So heart-wrenching story 🥹😭 Thanks for letting me know his story through your writing

  • A Pen

    Growing up I loved to write. I wrote stories and series for myself and it would be pages among pages of hand written stories or books. I remember I had written 500 pages of a book more than ten years ago that I still open and edit. All of these were handwritten first. I would use a paper pad and a pen. I was was always very picky when it came to using the writing equipment. My journal has a specific pen I use otherwise it feels like I had committed a crime. I once bought a Swarovski pen specially for my leather journal. The weight of it was perfect, but I had written with smoother pens before. Yet, this pen reminded me that I can sparkle too because of course it had Swarovski crystals in it. I kept it in a box that I would take out every time I journaled. This was not my favorite pen though. The easiest pen I have ever used was from a company that you could purchase from Chapters/Indigo. It was called poppin because they had used bright, fun, colors to make writing supplies wonderful. I remember the first time I used it. I was in university and was in need of very good pens because I did not have a reliable laptop to carry to my classes. I picked up the box I bought and picked one out of the box. I took the little gel bead off the top that blocks the ink. I placed it on the paper and it started to flow, it was the most pleasant feeling I felt in a long time. As soon as it touched the paper the pen wanted to write more, it wrote so smoothly I immediately hid the other pens back into my backpack so no one could “borrow” it we all know that meant you were never seeing that pen again. The ink was deliciously smooth writing across my notebook. I wanted to keep going even after I was done. I started doodling and found joy in writing again. That’s how much a pen can change your day. I know it’s such an adult thing to say. I wrote with other pens too such as the frixion pens because an erasable pen that actually erases. All that’s left is the indent on the page how ingenious! I remember in elementary they were “erasable” but you could still see remnants of blue on the page and if you wrote on top of it, it looked sloppy.

    By Ada Zuba6 days ago in Writers