Fingers laced together and head bent, she prays.
Her faith in God is as strong as the hands that lash the whip across her back.
The hot sun burning her, the empty stomach hurting her, the bloody whip deforming her,
She prays for easier days.
Eyes closed in the middle of the night, she dreams.
Her dreams of freedom are as vivid as the stars she sees behind her eyelids when she falls to the floor in exhaustion.
The hot sun burning her, the empty stomach hurting her, the bloody whip deforming her.
She dreams for a day when freedom will ring.
When she raises with the morning crickets, she walks.
Her strength sturdier than the toughest slab of cowskin.
She walks to the fields knowing that the hot sun will burn her, her empty stomach will hurt her, and the bloody whip will deform her,
Because one day, like in her prayers and dreams, freedom will ring.