A tribute to the forgotten
Land of our fathers yielding life to each of those who stops to listen
Who learn the lay, the giving, the rhythms of the expanse we’ve been given
Water to water, spring to spring, season to season, gathering what each brings
They have come from afar, from palaces of marble and glass, prescribing a new way
Promising more, but providing less, showing us a different life, assigning places we must stay
Taking our land and distributing to another, gone, along with the ways of our fathers
You remember us now only in names, of cities, rivers and plains
Yet it was we who roved the land, with whom we were one
We who revered, nurtured, harmonized and carried on and handed down legacies
Where are we now? In palaces of pleasure and cash, our heritage drifting away as ash
Land of new horizons, yielding life to those who till, sow and reap
Scattering seed, praying for rain, for health, for fortune and for good sleep
Day to day, paycheck to paycheck, week to week, scarcely making ends meet
They have come with plans, dams, culverts and canals, offering some of us a new way
Promising better, but preserving less, redirecting mighty waters, the face of the land must pay
Making our land more productive for some, options, but only for those willing to buy in
You benefit from our produce every day, but never give us another thought
Yet it was we who worked the land, land we learned to dominate
We who tilled, cultivated, fertilized and send along food for our countrymen
Where are we now? In weathered doublewides, our children leaving our sides
Land of the forgotten, often misrepresented and often misunderstood
Submitting to control from over the mountains and from across the nation
Year to year, ballot to ballot, election to election, scarcely believing we have a voice
Promising more, but providing less, changing laws, morals, culture and redefining words
Making life better for some, not others, only those who let go of all that once defined us
You may not benefit from our produce for long, taxes and laws drive our children away
Yet it was we who worked the land, land we hoped to pass on for generations
We who pinched, saved, economized and still have nothing left to give
Where are we now? Looking at lands far away, where freedom still rings
Pens and Picks 