Blue Collar

Your yoke is heavy, yet your conscience is light,
Sleeping softly on the Eastern wind bound home,
As sweat trickles down your hair that betray your plight,
And tears flush out from a heart to life well-known.

You carry yourself with your feet and your arms,
That have grown weary from toil yet does not rest,
For to waste time the idle misfortune charms,
And damn themselves to the never-ending test.

Your strength holds a family, strong is your frame,
Yet under the whip you writhe, the sun, you yield,
To the weak who sway you, a puppet, your name,
Yet greatest of them, the shadow of the field.

I watch as you sleep, I gaze upon your face,
You are young, and the world doesn’t deserve you,
For you are strong, yet have been put off your place,
For you are not like them, you are meek and true.

Look through the eyes and hands of a common man,
And you shall see the beauty of an honest day,
The wonder of a work done well and planned,
The peace of sunset, and a noble day’s pay.

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    For people who love to think.

    Jian Carlo R. Narag, MD

    2005-2017

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