A tale of a common conversation in the 1800’s

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story of a ‘convenient’ action made during the period of slavery...

Submitted: December 07, 2018

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Submitted: December 07, 2018

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It was a hot summers day, I was glistening in a way, the heat was intense, up and down in a cotton field I go, the suspense is mounting, sorrow ever counting, lest I slow...

Meanwhile I wait in the shade, hoping you make a mistake, you vile creature, a dog wouldn’t desire to have your feature, you better not slow, the sound of my crack in the air will bring you great despair...

I’m trying my best, it’s really hot out, my pores are filled with sweat whilst you’re threatening to bring me death, let me do my work before I take my last breath, afforded to me by you, since you’re running the show in the hands of the “master” the leather is burning, ‘his’ stomach is churning, pain is all I know...

I’ve heard enough of your barbarism, you’re not moving fast enough, up and down you go, I’ll show you who really is running the show, when I open you up and the blood will gush, I won’t care I have another one to tear...

Even though my best is done, the sun still burning me, faster I go up and down, you still strike me with such a wretched sound, my skin is torn from my bone, the damage is done, being shouted at to atone for the sins you say I’ve committed but you are the tool of the real crime which seems to be permitted...

I warned you, now blood is everywhere, you’ve messed up my leather but I have no time to dwell on whether you’re ok or not, I have to destroy another before ‘it’ loses the plot like you a worthless slue I ride on the back of the masters hip while you only taste “my power” because I am the whip...

You think you’ve won but the day is not done, still I keep on moving even though I am need of soothing, the ancestors who watch over me give me the power to not cower to you, as the scars you’ve embedded in me are true, I use them as a map to track my heritage of a stolen past... I am the back and I will forever be strong for my ancestors had strife, our shared scars are somewhat of a shrine, in the heat of this summers day I WILL shine...


© Copyright 2019 Cohl Christison. All rights reserved.

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