Psalm of the Plateau

By David A. Liapis

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