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Carolina blooms

Carolina blooms    
   
Tomorrow's my birthday but I know better than to ask for anything except, maybe I'll ask God for girl hands again.  My hands have forgotten how to bleed, same as my brothers and cousins.  Same as my back, it don't break anymore.  Sparrow starts to sing and we join her, bringing gospel to the devil's field.  I drink my own sweat because the sun and shadows tell me the next break is least an hour away.      
   
spineless sharecropper     
antediluvian chores     
weave chambers of life    
   
When it's time to knock off Im'ma ask Mr. Ramsey to work a bit more, all week, take a bit of the extra money and buy me ten cents worth a candy.  I'll  make my own party for me and my sisters.       
   
yellow jessamine     
beaten in the white season    
self resurrection     
   
(Writer's note: This haibun is written out of the stories my mother told me about her life in South Carolina in the 1940s. She worked in the cotton fields starting at age 9.  Submitted in the Grapes of Wrath challenge hosted by ZexionKingdomHeart.)
Written by LobodeSanPedro
Published | Edited 21st Feb 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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