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A Grain of Dreams
Domingo D. Landicho
After EDSA
When I went to the Hemmingway Farm that sunlit day,
Amidst an ocean of brownish stalks of corn,
I remembered the plight of peasants in my native land.

One day, they came to the city of power 
Where the mighty are sheltered in splendor;
Throngs of humanity in the sun,
Chanting the voices of the soil to the palace,
Singing the song of hope so long unheard.

Give us a piece of land to till,
Give us a piece of land to plant:
A grain of corn and a grain of rice 
That we may harvest a grain of dreams.

But lo! A valley of shots thundered 
Orchestrated symphony of the elite's gun,
Angered by the voices of the earth
Singing a song of hope long dead
Disturbing a tranquil slumber.

Before the day was over, the street was littered 
With body of the dead whose only crime
Is to dream for a little share of God's wealth,
Possessed by the wanton avarice of few.

When I left the Hemming way Farm as sunset loomed,
I saw the fleeting shadows of peasants in my native land.
Singing a song of hope for grain and dreams
Amidst the brownish stalks of the unharvest corn 
In my native land.

Iowa City 
15 September 1987
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