Oh, the Life of a Slave
She runs her hand along her skin,
over the ridges and down valleys of her back-
the harsh scars of poorly healed flesh.
“Oh, the life of a slave,” she says softly.
The heavy weight of crops on her back
as she makes her way uphill.
Perspiration falling in rivers down her spine,
she trips over an unnoticed root.
Immediately her hands rush to clean up her mess,
under the harsh glare of the plantation manager
“Oh, the life of a slave,” she grumbles.
The hot sun beats down on her back
as she straightens to stretch her cramped limbs.
A look from an untanned face cuts her break short,
and she returns to her crop picking with a frown and sore arms.
“Oh, the life of a slave,” she mutters.
Her eyebrows scrunch, her lips curl, her eyes squeeze shut
in anticipation of the blow of the whip.
She cringes as the harsh leather imprints her back-
her white punisher has spared no mercy.
“Oh, the life of a slave!” she cries.
By Judy Zhou
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