Father and son
have labored upon this land
for generations; that
first clan whose
name was our very own
had plowed and sown
these same fertile fields
that yielded unto them-all
the corn and wheat and feed–
that they could need
as they toiled and sweat, together
well into the muggy-wet summer nights,
and shivered near death, together
by the darkest of early winter dawns.

But not us–not you and me.
We never learned the language of father and son,
we never worked side-by-side,
we never tried
to speak
one-to-one, never tried to hear and now
the years are gone
and we are
who say nothing.

Yet if ever it were again, Dad–
if we could be those pioneers, together
a father and son,
I would–
and I’d plow and sow and labor the land
until my hands grew sore
and we’d yield more from this fertile field
than corn and wheat and crops to feed,
through summer’s heat and winter’s cold
we would work
and we would grow
old, together.

By Jason Weaver, 2013

After much time away, I dip my toes lightly into the blogosphere, and add this contribution to OpenLink Night at DVerse Poetry Pub. Check out the other awesome poets!


21 thoughts on “Wheatfield

  1. A deeply honest and heartfelt poem. It is hard to look back and realize one passed up on the communication one might have had. Do know it takes two though. It could have started with him. But I do feel what you are saying though. My mother is deceased. I wish NOW that I had asked her so much more……..told her about me so much more! Glad you are back in the blogosphere.

  2. sad…i share a bit of a similar relationship with my dad…though we lived together it was after i moved out that he became vulnerable to me and i heard his heart….felt piece…

  3. father son relationships can be difficult sometimes – somehow this reminded me of indiana jones and his dad – think it’s not easy to bridge the tension but so cool when we manage

  4. I love your poem. It is this situation that I fear my own three boys will feel when it comes to their dad. I only wish he would wake up and realize before it is too late what he is losing.

  5. I love the contrast of the father and son relationship from the pioneering days to the modern and busy life but no connection, sadly ~ If only we could, we would go back in time now and relish those simple and beautiful days ~ Last stanza is stellar ~ Lovely to see you again Jason ~ All the best ~


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