10 days to midwinter - the longest memory
On one of these sweet nights under the clear sky, With the girl responsible for my education, my
Love, my darling Lydia, she told me a tale Of a city in the north where we need not trail
Behind the world as it moves forward Where I cannot be punished for reading a word.
She told me not to worry, we will meet At twilight on midwinter’s eve,
And to bring my mother’s coat, the one Stolen from the dead woman before I was born.
The night before she left, my Lydia told me the plan to get away:
Wait 10 nights then leave the plantation, Meet me at sundown at the Park Street Station.
She placed on my cheek a kiss and in my hand a scrap, I folded it out to reveal the map.
Her trail traced in blue and mine in red, And from the milky starlight I read:
“Boston.”
I worked through ten days, slept through ten nights, Dreaming of Boston, the city’s bright lights.
With each shuddering breath of my father My dream of a life with Lydia drifted ever farther
Out of my reach, I knew I could never Leave my ill mother, who is frail as a feather.
I knew the consequence of my malfeasance, 200 lashes on my back for my treasons.
It was not uncommon for others to run, They always got caught but maybe I was the one
To do it right, to make that life, Be the slave to take a white lady as a wife.
The eve of midwinter just 11 days away, The world has bid it time to say
Goodbye to my mother, who kept me so safe, She will be waiting for me at Heaven’s gates.
The cover of the blue hour hid the joy of my heart, Reunion with Lydia, I’d best make a start
With father still sleeping, I gathered my things, The coat of two women that dared to grow wings,
Then I opened the gate to the adjacent street, Only thinking of a life, of a love so sweet.
I followed the red path, so carefully drawn And soon the blue hour turned into the dawn.
10 days til midwinter, the chill sure in the air, I walked, coat on, without a care
For the life I left behind, there was nothing For me now, nothing except the crushing
Loss of my mother, and the father who Didn’t understand, didn’t have a clue
What its like to have someone who Thinks just like you.
The day passes in a flash, the sweet Monotony of the sounds of my feet
Brushing the undergrowth and Understanding the land
I take shelter for the night As soon as the bright
Sun dips below the horizon And I fall asleep dreaming of Lydia.
At sunrise I’m interrupted by a sound No longer silence abounds As the horses draw nearer, and worse Their riders, rifles in hand. I try to run, try to escape But its too little and too late The first shot pierces my leg And I fall.
They dismount, grab my arms, Drag me back to the plantation.
I knew the consequence of my malfeasance, 200 lashes on my back for my treasons.
I thought of my mother Who I hoped to see again, And Lydia, But not my father, Who couldn’t even meet my eye As the whip pounded its excruciating rhythm on my back.
