perilous endeavor

Prometheus

I sat curled in a corner breathing calmly and steadily, my shrivelled legs strapped to my chest by my strawny arms staring into a puddle of some unknown liquid as a bitter chill crept into the barn. My breathing became shuddered adulterated by the cool winter cold. The dredges of clothing stole the strains of warmth in my person.Momma told me to cover my ears and hum a tune she heard the little white girl singing one day. Twinkle, twinkle little star how I wonder what you are. It's what I'd always sung at times like this. Thinking back I think that's how I felt about all the white people. Among the debauchery that was my life I became the man I am because I dared to think why? My ears were covered while my heartbeat thundered steadily, hammering into my brain. I feared it could block out the scream that was lodged in the back of my throat, in the back of my mind, behind everything that made me numb in this moment. Despite my thundering heart, beyond the song of stars, pass the haze that clouded my mind I could still hear it. The sound of my mother screaming my name as the fat white man raped her in the other room.

As I sat rocking back in forth lost in the fog of my mind a hand reached out as if beyond the mist and covered my hands a heavy object stretched across my person. It bathed me in warmth, my heart steadied in confusion, my breath halted in disarray, and my mind froze, as if the cold had overtaken me but it was more so the the confusion of being granted this life. Something soft, light, like the dreads of cotton, something fleeting like a coward fleeing in the wind, something... scared like the pendulum of death swung above. Yet, those hands gripped my own and whispered in the dead of the night that everything was ok. Those small, unfettered scareless, harmless, hands that demand why in my life of obligation. Those hands that questioned my reality and the question of "why" became a cheeky reply saying "why not?". They pressed my ears shut guarding the path to my mind. I had finally escaped my mother's pleas. the sound of my heart thundering through my head while the song played aloud was allowed passage among the fog of my mind. It was unsettling, uncharted territory perverse with unimaginable beauty. The feeling dared to swallow me whole and free me for a moment that was worth my entirety. That eerie unknown land had no cotton to pick, and no master to serve. It was magnificent.

All my life I could never escape the sound. That mind bending chime seem to begin at the end of my universe and settle within the confines of my soul. In those moments I could never peel back the fear which lurked in my heart and struggle towards my mother's room. I dared not to think of it nor dream of it but the absence of the sound, the overwhelming feeling that I wasn't strong enough to save her had been eradicated. It eroded into nothing becoming one with silence. Was this freedom? Was this the greatest ambition of every slave? What was this feeling like I could do anything if I could escape the sound of my name. No, freedom isn't this cheap. This wasn't it. Something was wrong but I couldn't figure it out.

I blinked. I struggled onward for the first time ever I fought with everything I was to escape the fog I had entangled myself into. A fog that swallowed sound, a fog so abysmal my soul melded into it deluding my very humanity. Today, I escape. today I beckoned to everything that made me me bellowing deep in the pit of my soul to awaken a dragon that would no longer slumber. I pulled my head up with all my might to only meet the eyes of my comrade. In that moment my tears would not cease. Her ears were only slightly cover by her long, black hair ending at her shoulders but seemingly continuing without end ensnaring my body in shackles of futility. her blue eyes looked into mind as if to mend my soul yet, my eyes shrank into the very back of my head. Her skin was almost as white as her dress which folded over her knees on which she laid flat adjacent to me. To swallow all of my pain, devour my weakness, and take my place in my primordial hell. Why? I could not find words at the time but I would not abandon my savior I took my hands from under hers and gripped them, gently moving them down.

I grit my teeth, I stood on my feet freeing myself from her prison. she stood with me in her lily white dress and our eyes like our heights ment centered. I pushed her away with all of my strength. I would not be saved while another only suffers. I'd traverse through my pain alone and conquer it. She only rose, not bothering to even brush the dust off her dress. I pushed her relentlessly again and again but she only rose she never spoke, never daring to look away. I was powerless while sobbing like a baby my nose ran flamboyantly down my chin and chest. my tears were twin rivers relentlessly flooding the lower echelons of my eyes and face. I'd been given resolve, understanding, clarity, and had it robbed from me all by the same person. I could only ponder what I could ever do to gain it back but Her eyes swallowed everything whole. A curious cat had wondered apon me drowning in my own pity it quietly laid in my lap as I went to push it way it only licked its massive fangs. I fell to my knees Utterly defeated by a lioness who devours all. Unknowingly the creature uttered my name as if once again in mockery to my unspoken pleas. The graceful, angelic, devourer uttered one word to me and returned it all to me at once. She placed those soft hands against my cheek and whispered life into my soul, yet she did not bend, she kept her eyes on me wiping away my tears yet, no longer my sorrows. Her words echoed through me like the actions of Prometheus giving me something truly forbidden for a slave. She said "rise."

•
In the heat of the moment my mother and the fat, white man had become an afterthought. I grabbed her hand, crept slowly to the barn door and pushed against it. The wood creaked at my touch, the splintering, unrefined wood stabbed at my hand but the sensation was nulled by my weary, little hands. I paused cautious of my next moves at my next move as slowly pushed onward against the door. My eyes darted first left then right and found their path ahead. A soft, clammy sensation lathered my hands lightly and I looked back to see the lioness that had defeated me looking weary as if unsure of what to do. I turned sharply to my old corner. It was like I could feel his cold vacant eyes gazing upon me in utter confusion. I needed to be strong. I looked her in the eye and calmly said "go." Alittle smile crept across her face. Her eyes watered, and welled like the sun rises and scorched the earth but u would not let the heat of her gaze overwhelm me. I grasped her hand with both of my own. A smile crept along my face as well as I remembered two very dear words to me. They too welled in my chest much like her tears. Yet, this was not like a rising but a boiling volcano. She'd open the door but it was my job to step through it cause if I could no longer say these faithful words to no one then I could no longer maintain my strength to press onward. "Trust me." She began to settle down. Her eyes falling from peak sunrise to dawn. She nodded and transversed back to her home silently like a thief in the night.

•
One year ago

My feet wrapped itself in dirt and dust. My hands, tattered and torn after a day's work, draped with sweat swept across my forehead in a attempt to fight against the blazing evening sun.
I was still a "halfing" a word of which I familiarized myself with after the white boys in the big house had addressed me time and time again. Today our names would be replaced. Mother said my true name would always belong to me but white men own lives they enslaved me, they were my oppressor. Their name meant very little. Yet, it would be my name. They'd address me as such and that name by them would identify me. Mr.revolver made things very clear. He'd whip our names into our soul. Carving out our freedom of identity onto the chains that bind us. Every lashing would brand our souls. Every lick stole from us our freedom. The little white girl, they seem to addressas emma played with her dolls on the porch. Visibly shaking from the acts of violence before her the act of playing with toys masked her fear of her reality. In short, it's that she didn't care it's just that she's a coward. My turn was up on the whipping block. They loosened the restraints on my comrades arms and let him crawl underneath the nearest tree. He crawled with a desperate look in his eyes as blood dressed his back. The tattered whipped dreads of cotton lingered against his wounds. You could feel the sweat stinging everytime it meant with the thick lashes against his bare flesh. My time was upon me. Momma said let them call me whatever but my name would always be rise in my native tongue.