Forced into servitude

Unable to find an escape

Chains imprinted on my wrists

Marks of the boats I arrived on

My color defines my power

Unlucky for how they treat me

Labor can define my life; harsh, a word

No resistance or punishments begin

A face like my own

Promises of my freedom

The dead of night is silent

And full with the joy of release

The risk is death

However I’d rather that

Than go back to what I had

A life of labor and abuse; words I hadn’t known

The feast of freedom was grand

Unaware of how little I had

Now adjusted to the one I have

Grateful for the woman who gave

Me a second chance; a new life