Farming Family, 1912

"Farming Family, 1912," by August Sander The cruelty of the men when they’re alone, The women’s tiredness and resignation, Do not get multiplied, as you’d expect, When the extended families collect, One day a year, to get their pictures taken. It’s not that any of their faces soften, Nor that there’s any obvious affection Between the farmer’s mother and his son; And only an idealist could see In this brief cutting from the family tree A symbol of the strength of rootedness— Three generations dwelling in one place— Knowing how soon the root will lose its branch, Cut down and hacked to pieces in a trench. The only explanation that makes sense For the illusion of resilience That lights their eyes and makes them look at home Is that with every added generation Buried potentialities appear: The son who poses strumming his guitar Refutes his father’s brandished Iron Cross No more convincingly than his bare face Proves that his father’s beard is obsolete; Denying one another, they complete Their likeness to the contradictory God who commanded us to multiply So He could manifest, in every birth, Another of His attributes on earth.