by Karen Georgia A. Thompson

this child of kings and queens
this queen, matriarch
this king, leader
carrying stories in buckets
waters from deep wells
drawn daily
to quench my thirst
for free
a foretaste of glory
I will see

this is my story
this is my song

I am a laborer
in the fields
working the land
with hands numb
fingers calloused
back bent to the sun
no time to weep
children cannot eat tears
this?
this is my land?

this is my story
this is my song

I am a laborer
in the fields
wearing stripes
moving rocks and stones
breaking up fallow ground
chains to my ankles
head bowed low
escaping the whip
punished for aspiring
punished for daring to own
myself as human

this is my story
this is my song

I am a laborer
in the fields
body sold to toil and till
no longer free
told I am worth
less than a horse
more than a mule
talking beast
beaten for thinking
shamed for being me
fighting for purchase on my humanity

this is my story
this is my song

yesterday
was 577 years
today
577 years later
I sing the same story
I sing the same song
wailing for freedom
singing for change
broken bodies
broken promises
577 years of grave injustices
blessed assurance
justice will be mine

this is my story
this is my song

I am a laborer
in the fields
I toil in the heat
sweat on my brow
I smile at the sun
watching the children play
bringing water to pale visitors
I sing
murmuring the discordant beginning
of 577 years

this is my story
this is my song

KGAT
4 April 2018
00:58
Washington, DC