The enslaved

The crops grows from the tears of the enslaved The ground quakes from the harsh sound of the whip Their calloused hands evidence of a life of painful labour Wounds etched their skin A twisted reminder of what happens when you don't comply Their bones crushed under the weight of exhaustion Their eyes burned by the harsh sun Despite this a fire burns within each of them Singing songs learned from their home Reminiscing of the times their mother would quietly sing them Teaching themselves to read under the gentle light of the moon Learning to write in the quiet shadows of the night Telling the stories of their homeland to the children Of hope, of promise, of freedom To ignite their fire within them Soon when they are older there will be a rebellion Brought about by the strength of each other Of one day leaving this nightmare Of one day freed of the shackles they bear A candle burns in the dead of night The stillness of the air outside The one moment of peace they don't have to hide The elders weep for a better life Silently while the children sleep Knowing in the morning this a distant memory Forced to go back to the same routine Of keeping the tears at bay And staying strong for those who can't Their hearts heavy with uncertainty Their spirits cracking in fear Malnutrition eats away at their flesh Dehydration cracks their skin Their only nutrition the sweat that covers their body Their disease ridden bodies awaiting the inevitable The animals hidden awaiting for any signs of rotting The conditions tough But the enslaved tougher Forever earning the respect of those who come after