Black birds flew high
in the morning sky, covering the sun like a thick dark shawl, blocking its
light. I felt like my soul lost its light too, as you drove us
away smiling, releasing the dirt that covered the road.
You were talking to me,
but I said nothing while tears ran down
my face. I was turned around staring out the back window of your pickup at
the home I shared with a family who thought
of me as nothing, but commodity.
You spoke words
I couldn’t hear, words that fell on the
dirty floor of your truck. I turned
around, watching as my home got smaller inside
the brown dirt cloud, in the side mirror, my heart breaking. I felt like
nothing, wanting to hide in that black hole that covered the sun as the birds
flew over.
What was wrong with me, that Papa hated me so, I thought. What did I do to make him sell me
like a piece of meat?
As the sun reappeared,
I made up in my mind than if Papa hated
me, than I would hate him too.
Copyright © 2013-14 Glynis Rankin
Debt Part One
