America Watts 1851-1934

America Watts 1851-1934 Mister White buried me here beside Greek George, Back here, with the wind-tossed weeds and the walnuts. “Hey George, you old camel driver, you. Can you hear me over there? I can relate to your dogged controlling ways.” With invisible trace chains attached to my pigtails, Mister Watts for 39 years was my master and tormentor; Five times in our marriage I felt the bloody pangs, Of his beaded belt, and bare knuckles. Five times I fled from his house a frighted, Wondering if I would wake up the next morning alive. “Hey George, you old camel driver, you, Can you hear me over there? I was no beast of burden to beat, Nor was I his old blanket to hang on the line.” When a possible sixth time erupted in 1891, I ran to the tool shed next to the privy, Out back, there, with the lilacs and the bleating ewes. And I desperately grabbed his bladed axe. “No Mister Watts! You will not beat me today!” I screamed, as nearby neighbors looked on. “No Mister Watts! Never again will I accept this!” Looking back on that moment, here in my grave, I believe Mister Watts was waiting for me to at last resist him. No more after that was I his silent patsy. No more was I his old, used-up mare, His old brow-beaten girl, with ticks, gadfly bites, And a thousand silent complaints. “Hey George, you old camel driver, you. Can you hear me over there? Truth be known, I stood up to my only love in life.” I finally decided to make a stand against him, The one who fed, clothed and provided a roof over my head. And he stopped. He stopped! Thank the Lord, he stopped beating me! And here I am, after 83 years of toil, hardship and pain, Buried happily, way back here, With the wind-tossed-weeds and the walnuts.