Superwoman of the Paddy Fields

She wipes her brow
she ties her hair
long upon her shoulder
she dares the sun
to turn her brown
as she works the land
for her sons
five in all
and their education

she tends the field
caresses cold soil
coaxes the rice plant to grow
praying for good harvest
hoping for surplus
so she could sell
to buy them schooling
so her boys will have
a better future

the dusk of day
she shepherds her boys
to the creek to bath
and home where sky
peeks through the roof
soil looks up from below
dinner she serves with love
handful of rice for each
a piece of fish on empty plates

at night she softly sings
a lullaby to make them sleep
her beloved boys
off spring of love
from a man now gone
to glory where no bullet flies
from terrorists’ guns
no hatred from vigilantes
no tears of hunger

dawn greets her with brightness
never tire she set fish traps
pound the rice for her boys
wash their tattered clothes
repair the roof of the house
set the buffalo off to graze
harvest the paddy from the field
at night her beloved boys
listen to her lullaby.