Slave in the Womb?

Slave in the Womb

Some see us as ponds in a game, and others try to protect us from hiding their shame. The shame of known events passed down from years long ago that, when revisited, only causes hurt and pain and will revive a curse that, unless wisdom prevails, will always remain.

They justify their acts of saving poor me by exploding with outrage about abortions so that everyone can see that they are Saint-defined, pure, and flawless, but they declare that anyone other than them is lawless.

My mom and dad always know what is best for me. They know me by knowing themselves. This gave them the wisdom to know what lies ahead. Many have wished that they were dead. They refused to see me come into the world with a future as they possessed nothing but to work free like all the rest.

My parents had sense enough to know that my future was grim, and If I did not work myself to death, I would end up hung to an oak tree limb.

Back then, it did not matter if my father was my slave master or simply another slave; my future was designed to work free from my birth to my grave.

So I lie here in this belly of water, knowing my mom cannot care for me even if I live. She can only abort me or give me away to a good family, or maybe not. If I am lucky, I may have a shot at getting adopted by a movie star or perhaps a crackpot.

This may sound crazy, but I’d rather be among my brave ancestors that never came to be than be placed in a potluck of 400,000 others awaiting someone to adopt me.

Just, John