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Image for the poem Carolina blooms

Carolina blooms

Carolina blooms      
     
Tomorrow's my birthday but I know better than to ask for anything except, maybe I'll ask God for girl hands again.  My hands have forgotten how to bleed, same as my brothers and cousins.  Same as my back, it don't break anymore.  Sparrow starts to sing and we join her, bringing gospel to the devil's field.  I drink my own sweat because the sun and shadows tell me the next break is least an hour away.        
     
spineless sharecropper       
antediluvian chores       
weave chambers of life      
     
When it's time to knock off Im'ma ask Mr. Ramsey to work a bit more, all week, take a bit of the extra money and buy me ten cents worth a candy.  I'll  make my own party for me and my sisters.         
     
yellow jessamine       
beaten in the white season      
self resurrection       
     
(Writer's note: This haibun is written out of the stories my mother told me about her life in South Carolina in the 1940s. She worked in the cotton fields starting at age 9.  Submitted in the Grapes of Wrath challenge hosted by ZexionKingdomHeart.)

Painting: Kadir Nelson
Written by LobodeSanPedro
Published | Edited 31st Dec 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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