The Farmer and the Herdsman

I was just a farmer, twenty years old,

Waiting for my first child to hold.

What did I know of fights and blades?

Just crops to plant, the land to raise.

Why did he come with a knife in hand?

Did he see me as a thief on my own land?

Should I have run, let him take my life?

Is it a crime to fight and survive?

They took me away, locked me inside,

Seven years of waiting, no chance to hide.

When they judged me, they said I should flee

Should I have died to keep my hands clean?

Ten years lost, my daughter grows,

A child I've never come to know.

Does she hear my name with shame?

Am I just a story filled with blame?

Would they hang me if they knew my fear?

If they felt a knife so close, so near?

If they were there on that dusty farm,

Would they let the blade do harm?

I fought to live, is that a sin?

Should I have let the knife sink in?

Is justice blind or does it choose

Who gets to win, who gets to lose?

I wait for mercy, for a sign,

A word before my end of time.

Can they see a man who tried to live?

Is there no room left to forgive?

About the Poem

Sunday Jackson, a hardworking farmer, was brutally attacked by a herdsman on his own farm. The assailant, armed with a knife, left Sunday with no choice but to defend himself. In the ensuing struggle, Sunday was forced to take the life of his attacker.

Despite acting in self-defense, Sunday was arrested and jailed for over a decade. During his incarceration, he was denied the opportunity to meet his unborn child, and his wife, unable to cope with the situation, left him.

In a shocking turn of events, the government has now decided to pursue capital punishment, seeking to hang Sunday for an act of self-defense. This devastating outcome has raised questions about justice, morality, and the protection of human rights.