the plow horse

you were
there building
the pyramids.
you were there
in the cotton
fields, there
in the barrel
of a ship
with an oar in
your hand.
you have been
a plow horse,
a slave,
owned by others.
made to work
for nearly
nothing but
the continuance
of life. you
were there,
when food was
out of reach,
and at times
you still feel
the whip, hear
the click
of gun pointed.
you still see
the sun
through a broken
pane of glass.
it's hard to get
away from there,
but you're trying,
you're really
trying.