A Week for Writing – Prompt 92: We Wear History

It has been a while since I’ve seen the A Week for Writing prompts, so imagine my surprise when I noticed the other day that they have started again.  I really didn’t think I could pull this one off.  It required writing a minimum of 4 our of 10 prompt words (WORDLE).


The words were: Worry, loyal, corner, fierce, consequences, wondered, kitchen, follow, headlights, and mistake.


I only left out one – just couldn’t make headlights work for this one.  Also, one of the words (corner) – I used corners.  I take poetic license, but either way – I still made it with a minimum of 4 words.  I am pleased with what I was able to come up with.  I hope you enjoy it as well.


We Wear History Upon Our Backs


Mama was in the kitchen

Hair pulled back

Humming a tune

While pots clinked

Smoke billowed

And the smell

Of her soulful cooking

Wafted through the house

We were home

No windows, dirt floor –

But we were home.

Two small children

sat at her feet,

one in pigtails

both in overalls

and we played

as if nothing

was out of place.

See, our lives

Carry tales

Long and deep

And we wear the scars

Of history on our backs

No longer the slave

But enslaved.

See, Daddy was loyal

And he wouldn’t leave

But mama,

It made her blood boil

She could never

Be held down

And that, right there

Will kill you dead.

So, while mama cried

And worry wore its lines

On papa’s face

He made way

For our passage

But he stayed.

Said he owed the man

For taking somethin’

That wasn’t his.

So brother, mama and I

We crawled through

Dark corners of night

The howl of chasing dogs

on our feet

there were consequences

for trying to flee

and master was fierce

fire raged in his veins

and we –

we were nothing

but a means to an end.

We would follow

North star

In the dark of night

And mama would beg us

To silence our fears

And she feared

It all was a mistake

And she prayed.

We crawled, walked

and swam a distance

Fear cut its wounds deep

And we cried

On this journey

But one day,

we finally found home.

Today, mama is cooking

Supper is almost done

And brother and I

Play at her feet

And mama hums a tune

And stares out the window

Her song, a sorrowful tune

She always wondered

Why papa

Never found His way home

And tears welled in her eyes

We all felt his absence.

Yes, we wear the scars

Of history on our backs

And mama never knew,

Papa stayed

Because he was loyal

And master repaid him

His body whipped and hung

from that old oak tree

in the town square

she kept humming,

waiting for papa

to find his way home.


© Sumyanna 2015


I missed the deadline.  Well actually, it is still January 17th here.  The owner lives in a different country.  Still a worthy write, so I will share.


4 thoughts on “A Week for Writing – Prompt 92: We Wear History

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