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freedom

Walk the wooden deck of the boat I was tied and shackled to. Feel the sun as it reaches down to the cotton fields I have picked, burns the ground and singes the skin dark as the night that calls for us all to find our freedom. Hold the chains that weigh on my soul and bind me to the man we are forced to call master. Trace the scars on my back that tell the story of how my will was broken, stepped on and left to die in a place only my ancestors can call their home, which I can only describe as a long story forgotten, and the tellers too far gone for their words to be heard. Look through my tired weary eyes that have seen too many scenes of red tears, last breaths and grave diggers to last one too many generations. Come sit, turn on the oil lamp who is too weak to even give off the illusion of something bright squint your eyes and sound out the letters connect each word, form each sentence that read out the directions to finding our freedom.

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