They were already awake,
The sky dark as the work ahead,
Hands stiff from la tierra,
Feet bruised from the miles,
Yet they never stopped.
The nights were too short,
The days stretched on,
Sleep was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
Still, they pressed forward,
One step, then another.
La tierra gave little,
But took all they had.
Baskets filled with fruit,
Hands worn from the toil,
Every mark,...
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