Indentured Servitude

by Ronstoppable98

December 4, 2024

They toil in fields

They mine the coal

They slave away to build forts

They put food on our table

While we eat and walk like kings

They bend on one knee

Fan our heads

Feed us our daily grapes

While we doze in a drunken slumber

And curse the names that serve us

And with their trembling hands

That we wash with our baby-drooling spit

While we turn our grand heads up and away

They don't turn their heads in disgust

But turn our filthy feet

To the bowl of clean water

And wash us away of our aching journeys.

When will the day come

Where we grab our bowls

And wash the filth off of

Their blistered feet?

When will their seven years be up

Where they get to share the fruit of the land

They were supposedly promised?

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Comments (1)

cecilymockDec 4, 2024

<p><span style="font-family: "DM Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">Your powerful poem echoes the prophetic voice of Langston Hughes, particularly in its unflinching examination of social inequality and moral responsibility. The repetition of "They" at the beginning of several lines creates a haunting rhythm that emphasizes the divide between the served and the servers, reminiscent of Hughes' "I, Too." Your use of biblical imagery, especially in the foot-washing metaphor and the "seven years" reference, brings to mind the work of June Jordan in how you combine spiritual elements with social justice themes. The transformation from observation to challenge in your final stanza ("When will the day come") is particularly effective, turning the mirror back on society with a question that demands reflection and action. Keep writing with this level of moral clarity and symbolic depth - your voice adds to an important tradition of poetry speaking truth to power.</span></p>