Freedom Thoughts

I’s free. Broken bones and skin. Free. Don’t know where’s I’ll end up. Free. John ain’t my name. Share that name with ol’ massa’s dog. Lawd. I don’t know who I am, but I is free. A free man. A man free. Gotta keep runnin’ fore sunrise. Fore they miss me. My breath leavin’ me. Don’t get tired. Don’t let me get tired. They kill Sam. They ain’t gonna kill me. Free. Done hear tell of a place I can go. Hope this the way. Good white folks’ there. Keep runnin’…. Got clean away. Free. I see the river. Gotta run cross the river. I ain’t never been in water pass my knee. Sky turnin’ all kinds of red and yellow. Don’t let me get tired Lawd. Ain’t got no time. Ain’t got no more. Reckon I can rest up here. NO! That tired you feel is the devil. Evil thoughts leave me be. Run. Run. FREE!

© Speaks Beliefs, 2009. All rights reserved.
This is my first serious attempt at prose poetry. Thanks Crystal Belle!

3 thoughts on “Freedom Thoughts

  1. wow! this is FIRE! i absolutely love how you use the dialect to speak to reader in such a vivid way. the notion of freedom after captivity is a great theme. i like how in the end the voice seemed to come from within, kind of like the Creator. i really enjoyed this. thanks for the shoutout! i’m going to work on mine tomorrow. i can’t wait to share. great stuff!!!!!


    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, hear the African drums
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, understood by all tongues
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, slaves from different tribes
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, sharing musical vibes
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, getting in the groove
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, soon we’ll make our move
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, when you hear the beat
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, start to move your feet
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, master never knew
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, what our drums could do
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, using secret code
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, our plans unfold
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, when the sun goes down
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, we’ll head out of town
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, you just follow me
    Biddy-bop, biddy-bop, soon we’ll all be F-R-E-E!

  3. This poem made me remember traveling from Detroit to Canada via the moss on the trees on a girl scout trip. Man, I loved Canada and respect it for being a “free” location.

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