A Killer Who Became A Farmer

Wow, looking back this old poem of mine from 2015…it was so dark and haunting. Interesting to see themes that have continued to stay throughout my current writing.

Mecca-Amirah Jackson

A man with distant and cold eyes once told me that he wanted to become a farmer….
I  asked, “If you could live a life bereft of responsibilities and money were no object, who would you want to be?”
He said, “A farmer.”
“A farmer!” I responded confused.
“Does that sound so impossible that a killer like me, with blood stains on his hands would want to be a simple farmer?”
“No,” I had replied, “it makes complete sense.”
“How is that? A farmer creates while I destroy.”
“That blood you speak of,” I said, “can be used as fertilizer.”
He didn’t respond so I continued:
“Imagine this, you are a farmer and the there is a crop that isn’t growing properly, too much sun not enough water. What to do? Fertilizer is nectar to a plant, using the power and energy of others to aid the crop. So instead…

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