Life As A Slave

their stories are written on the water –
the men and women who were
broken in body, soul, and spirit
by that peculiar institution known as
slavery –
men and women whose names are
lost forever to history,
left only to be whispered by
the lakes and rivers of time.

for these people,
death
was better than the degradation and abuse
suffered during a harsh life lived on
a cotton or sugar cane plantation.

Very violent, sudden
uprisings,
where liberty – not malice – was
the motivation for their work,
were an acceptable, welcomed way to die.

and once finally freed,
these men and women crossed
the length and breadth of
a land which had scorned them.
they walked the land in search of
a promise of freedom and
a chance for a life outside the
bonds of slavery –
a promise meant to go unfulfilled.

Familial Sacrifice

made to fear somebody above all else,
he was born for another’s benefit -
firstling of the cabin flock and
selected as a meet offering to
a fearful and inexorable demigod,
whose huge image so haunted
his childhood’s imagination.

she kept him kindly ignorant
of dreaded events about to transpire.
upon that long, tiring journey,
she kept sad facts hidden from him.
he was naïve, innocent – helpless!
and she led him along by the hand,
like the spring lamb to slaughter.

and her gaze lowered, resisting all inquiring looks
with the reserve and solemnity of a priestess.

Brothers By Blood

brothers and sisters by blood and
made strangers by slavery –
the domestic hearth with
its lessons and precious endearments
abolished when the end is slavery.

hearing the words brothers and sisters
must mean something –
something of import and value –
but slavery robbed these terms
of their true value to man.

she was gone clean out of sight
without a goodbye or such.
as my heart broke and my will died,
wounded by her grave betrayal,
i lay upon the ground, weeping bitter tears.

i sobbed myself to sleep –
to rest upon the healing wings
of an angel, soaring above
the clouds and earth as
i lay there, fitfully slumbering.

that healing balm –
so warm, so inviting –
was never more welcome
to a wounded soul than
that very first night.

brothers and sisters –
sharing the blood of
one loving mother, having
rested beneath her breasts
and been born from her womb.

now strangers, bound by slavery –
entered into bonds so degrading
no man, woman, child, or animal
should ever experience –
let alone live – a life that way.

A Cry For Freedom

what heart could be so hard as
not to be pierced with piteous feelings
to see that company –
that peculiar institution which serves
no greater purpose than to
rob the heart of every gentle disposition,
and to harden it, like steel?

you are loosed from your moorings –
you are free!
i am fast in my chains and am a slave!

you move merrily before the
precious, gentle gale, and
I sadly before the bloody whip.

you are freedom’s sweet swift-winged angels
that fly `round this world.
i am confined in bands of iron.

o, that i were free –
nestled in the mane of the
british lion,
protected by his mighty paw…
safe and free from the
talons and beak of the
american eagle.