The hand that tilts the land

Under the heat of the sun, drops of sweat from the hand tilting the land. Burning through his shirt under the merciless heat of the sun.

From sunrise to late afternoon. With a little break under the trees. Squatting like a hardworking Chinese man would. With a cigarette burning in his right hand, between his fingers. Wiping his sweat with his shirt.

I adore and admire the strength and the dedication you carried in your heart for the people you loved. It’s a powerful love known only to men with great forbearance and perseverance. 

You were the anchor made of gold and iron that tied us firm and steady amidst the turbulent waves of the sea of injustice. 

Your love was bigger and wider than the sun. Unfathomable to the mind of the jagged shard glasses paving the way your iron-bare feet walked.

A prayer of gratefulness. A simple dinner at the end of the day. A cup of black tea was like a crystal glass of wine from heaven. 

Your simple bed is made of woven mat. A rest for the night before you rise up again with the sun to another day of sweat dripping endlessly like a stream of heaven. 

Your body is perfectly sculpted to handle the weight of the daily loads of responsibilities you carry on your shoulders and heart.

It’s a daily ritual of your daily life routine. You gladly, with a great heart, carry on with what has been given to you against your will.

Your body is immune to the heat of the sun. Your skin has become resistant to the heat of the day. Your heart remains humbled in the silence that powered your halo.

Tears of a silent cry

The rain of tears falling from the skies. The silent cry was drenching you as you worked the land. Even that doesn’t make you give up.

When rain falls, you are never in a rush to get home. And when the rain gets heavy, you come jogging to the house, soaked. A little moment of fresh breath to give you a break to stay dry while your heart awaits the moment the rain moves on to another part of the earth.

You seized the moment to return to your duties without complaining.

Your body and your health cry out the next day. You shivered. When you call on me to cover you with a blanket. Your head was bounding, but there was no Panadol.

Your request for cordyline leaves to massage your head. Accepted with anxiety as I felt the deep sense of sorrow of seeing you fell to the load of the work on your shoulders without any help.

As I sat close to the top of your head, massaging your head. The audible crispy sound of the cordyline leaves ripping every time I press them on your forehead and the top of your head. Was the crispy sound of mercy.

Today it’s crispy sound of mercy still singing in my head.

The discomfort shivered in your body. Your moan and sounds of discomfort set fear in my heart.

Fear and worries filled my heart. Prayer in silence for your quick recovery. A child who has no other protector and comforter fears the loss of the only treasured heart that made her happy. 

In your soft voice you asked for a hot cup of tea. And I proudly and joyfully prepared with love and hopes for your health to return as soon as possible.

All though it took so much time to make the tea on the bonfire. But you waited patiently under the layer of blankets for your hot cup of tea.

It shattered my heart to see you on a mat covered from head to toe under a layer of sheets and blankets. 

In your softly gentle voice, you pleaded for your body to be massaged.

I sat next to you behind your back, massaged your arms and shoulders as you moan under the layers of blankets. I then moved down to your legs and feet.

I would sit there, massaging your shoulders, arms, legs, and feet for however long you need your body to be comforted. Until you tell me, “That’s enough. Thank you,”

Father, the heartache hasn’t subsided. My heart throbs to the flow of painful memories of your struggle.

I have been crying storms of tears, but years have gone by, and my tears are still causing waves that hit my heart with sorrow and confusion. 

May my heart continue to remember you and cry for you. May the pain continue to burn until the day I meet you again.

I love you, father, with all my heart and soul. 

I love you, father.

Your power 

The next day you felt better. And eager to return to the land to carry on with the load of work awaiting your return.

On the third day, you were back to work, though we both knew you may not be well enough to return to the land to work.

But your big heart and your busy mind won’t give up. 

I walked behind you, following you like a little puppy. I sat on a fallen tree trunk watching you as you worked. You would tell me to do little chores here and there, around you.

You are unique and precious. You are truly one of a kind. 

The sun will continue to rise with you. And the rain will sing your praises and continue singing your praises instead of tears.

I will forever love you, until I see you again. 

With a heart overflowing with respect, love, and endless compassion for you, I place the crown of peace and gratefulness upon your golden head.” 

Your halo brighten my day. Light the path I walk, in the darkness of the night. Your merciful soul keeps me grounded. Your love never far behind me. Your love for me is equal to the love of a thousand men. And that is more than enough love to take me till the end. 

Away from home and away from you. I had nothing to hold on to survive but your love. Today, I’m still holding on your precious unwavering love, for comfort. You’re my home and my salvation. 

Your memories sweet and sour, they breathe inside me harmony and peace. The picture of your face, painted in my head. 

You were a great man like no other. You were the anchor of my soul. You fed, the poor, the arrogant, and the peasants, with your sweat. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘enough”

Memories I have been trying to cast to the wind never to return.