May 17, 2016

The Slavery

The hand enwrapped in flesh of white,
The handle thick of leathern twine,
The buckled boots of fabrics fine;
The figure of all Western might.

They built a creature out of sweat,
Of fingers pricked and households split,
And on it their own trappings fit,
And in it looming terror set.

It walked the fields, it bedded mud --
The Slavery its taken name;
It roamed and to all countries came
On roads of dirt and sea and blood.

It carried but a heavy glass,
And traveled to each toiling man
Of former standing in his clan,
Each woman, boy, and budding lass,

To show them what they had become,
But never what they were before,
So might their skin in cloth it wore
Be struck in mind and make it numb --

Alas, it would in this succeed,
Its victims rendered as a herd
That follows Master, speaks no word
Of protest, lest they know the reed,

For now their sund'ring they beheld,
Recalling home beyond the tide,
Their people, land, and sated pride
Undone, their very spirits felled.

They labored at their lord's command
To harvest, serve, to wait on those
Who, at the market, they had chose,
As beasts that could on two legs stand

The Slavery but showed their loss,
And never wracked or whipped or stung,
So they of woe and torment sung
To white men as their foes emboss,

But all the while, that monstrous fiend
Pranced 'round and chuckled in its play,
The truest villain hid from they

It tortured with their image gleaned.

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