Minnesota farmer Duane Botzek shares this piece of prose. In writing it he says it is “Dedicated to those that have lost, moved on to a new life having to give up the place they loved. It is a feeling that is hard to write, but is known by those who have gone through this wordless change giving up their land. Inspired by words of a neighbor before my auction.

Months and years of talking to bankers, accountants, extension service people and conciliates have raised more questions then answers. Recently, talking to a dairy on an unusually warm winter's day, I watch the sun across his farm, hearing the cracking in his voice, and seeing a glazing in his eye. I feel his words cut through me as they flow and move across the land. My note pad captures this image, in this moment.

Some days, in some ways, I begin to see, a dream in its autumn. Blossoms fall and land in the breaks of a heart and will not stop until bottom.

I write down my interpretation of what I hear and felt, and it flows in a stream of these words:”

In The Heart Of This Land

Farm's not ready for the auctioneer
I need somebody to find a cure
So tired of fighting just to persevere
Someday, someway, I want to be
Secure in the heart of this land

We were once the biggest, but now way too small
Broken down milk price, hit the wall
Selling my land for a shopping mall
Someday, someway, I want to be
Stable in the heart of this land

I want legs that know how to thrust me
Safe in the heart of this land
I want to flow and move in these winds that change me
Someday, someway, I want to b
Safe in the heart of this land

The farm used to move and flow with the land
Now it's cut through by a world marketing plan
Your glass of milk is the last from my hand
Someday, someway, I want to b
Solid in the heart of this land