Freedom

The rope is tight around my neck And I feel it making its imprint Into my flesh. I glance at the growing crowd That has gathered round To watch me perform my trick. In the crowd I see only pale faces Whose lifeless laughing pupils seem to sear Into my flesh. I turn from them to look at my hands, Hands callous from cotton-picking in bands But at last I am freed by God's graces. I can still smell the pottage heating by the fire I can still feel the embers jumping out Into my flesh. I can still see the corner, full of refuse I can taste my bloodied molars, loose After a thorough clubbing from the Sire. I can see my mother being stripped and whipped I can see my father drenched in burning tar that seeps Into his flesh. See my sisters displayed naked and bare See them modeled like two healthy mares Hear my brother's sigh as his lashing is skipped. But I, thank God, am more fortunate than these: I am released at once from the burden That trembles the flesh, Spared from the torture, from the agony, Whisked away in a chariot stately. And thank God for the oak, the sweet gum, trees That have mercy on me, that grant my wish, (Euthanasia) FREEDOM. And SNAP! the sand-bags hit the dirt...