Specters of Slaves
Nature trail extends for miles
Surrounded by wetlands and lakes
Each step I take brings me closer
To an old plantation, where I climb the stiles
For it was here that slaves once toiled
To raise and harvest sugar cane
Their cries and moans can still be heard
And the Plantation’s magic is spoiled
Within this forest are the echoes
Of every gasp, every word
Slaves once uttered in their daily trials
In these deep woods, far from the meadows
Spanish settlers claimed this site
Where Natives suffered in their plight
Shadowy specters never kissed by sunlight
Reverberating sadness in a world void of light
Written February 19, 2020
N/A in Joseph May's “Lines to Awaken Your Muse” poetry contest, judged March 2, 2020.
Line Chosen: #4 by Robert Frost - “Whose woods these are, I think I know”
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