Deep dark eyes
Small opening of a curtain
Watching through
– The thick underbrush,
Few feet high.
Southern night wind –
Cupped by the crescent moon,
Dance of the underbrush,
Gentle sway to a silent tune,
Touch and gently kiss,
Soiled undershirts,
Starched by beads of sweat.

Deep dark eyes,
Dart back and forth,
– Back and forth,
Move with the underbrush,
Sway in rhythm,
With wind of the cupped moon.
No music – eyes didn’t dance;
White slits in the back,
Fill with terror.
– Music would stop,
– Brush would stand still,
– Eyes could see,
Through the still underbrush.

Deep dark eyes,
Feel, sense movement.
Corner of eyes move, squint
Look hard through
Now split underbrush,
Cleaved into equal halves.
Terror grips the eyes,
Turns inwards, shuts themselves
Wish they didn’t see it so.
Only a moment passes,
The eyes open hesitatingly,
Roll up, and –
Capture crease of a lip,
Edge of a smile,
Relief –
At nights passing of danger,
At sight of a small animal.

Cupped moon grows distant,
Measuring the nights passing,
With each moving step,
Towards its daily rest
With the morning sun.
Deep dark eyes,
Weary with yearning,
Tired from unseen terrors,
Creased from a singular smile.
– Night was passing.
Child in the deep dark eyes,
Waits – Father had gone,
Shadows bundled in his grey sack,
Hunger from days passing,
Needed to be fed.

Child in deep dark eyes,
Waited – for shadows to return,
Terrors to momentarily seize.
Then begin anew –
At every days passing,
Silently through the underbrush.
Silent footfalls every day,
Carrying the weight,
Of a child
– With deep dark eyes,
– A slave’s journey,
To a freed world,
To where the tired eyes could rest.

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