The Worker Hero by Amado Hernandez I am a worker: one grain of the sands that fill up the ruts, but also build the temples. Perhaps I owe my life to God, but my lot is a debt to myself. I know the law: "Man, from your own sweat you will earn your daily bread." I erected Greece and Rome, I destroyed arrogant Troy: my hands are hammers, weapons to create and destroy at will. If you see before you any products of labor, It was I who shaped them, gave them birth. I am the monarch without throne or crown, a master who must always obey another. How many lucky men have I helped enrich, while I myself remained hungry? How many stood upon my shoulders? My orphans have become Mammon and Nabob. . . . . . All the buildings, streets and vehicles were wrought by my hands of steel; by the power I discovered—oil, coal, iron— industry and commerce performed miracles; but the gap between my life and property widened . . . and my life has been subjugated. To deprive my person of dignity was the work of scheming minds; but gold will indubitably remain gold, fragrance of earth will elude concealment; and if I am negated by the corruptors, who will deny the final judgment of history?