The last american slave

                                                    The last american slave

She was 4 foot 11, with mocha-brown skin and almond eyes that oozes despair
At 18 years old given as a gift as a slave
To toil for the rest of her days

As dawn arrives over the hills her day began as her masters slept
Then was only allowed to sleep after the masters were in bed again

She prepared three meals a day, cleaned the house, waited on her overlords to rest again
While she struggled with toddlers all day

She never paid , and was scolded constantly
She wasn’t kept in leg irons, but she might as well have been
She spent many nights, sleeping in a corner, slumped against a mound of laundry

She was told to marry a pig farmer twice her age but she was desperately unhappy but had nowhere to go
Thus she ended up as the last american slave


She could have food and shelter if she would pledge to taking care of his daughter, who had just turned 12.
Her parents lived in a hut with a dirt floor, what could she do

Brought to america that things would be different only to become the last american slave

Wasn’t paid. Toiled every day. Was tongue-lashed for sitting too long or falling asleep too early.
Was struck for talking back

Wore hand-me-downs
Ate scraps and leftovers by herself in the kitchen
Rarely left the house
Had no friends or hobbies outside the family
Had no private quarters
Her designated place to sleep in the house we was always whatever was left—a couch or storage area
She often slept among piles of laundry

Never saw dentist. She was in her 50s and had never been to one
took aspirin every day for the pain, and her teeth looked like a crumbling Stonehenge

Lola made it to 86  this brown woman no bigger than a child
Had none of the self-serving ambition that drives most of us, and her willingness to give up everything for the people around her won her our love and utter loyalty.
The last american slave

In cheap plastic box made of porcelain and not rosewood
The last american slave buried on the paddy fields
Is finally at peace!

are your slavish days done?

i am trying my hand at some poems and short essays.

i dont need advice.

just saying

what does that mean?

i tried my hand at a poem. so you dont like it.
so be it