Senseless

I was looking out across the Atlantic the other day and while I gazed across the waters my mind pondered what this view was like for my ancestors hundreds of years ago. It reminded me of a piece I wrote a few years back that I thought would be appropriate to share with you all now.

Senseless

I see darkness; nothing but darkness before my eyes. Without the sun to signal dawn and dusk I live in constant night for no telling how long. Yet, I manage to see the emptiness that’s conquering all of those around me. It is engulfing us all and leaving behind mere shadows of our former prominence. When last I saw the light they shoved us all, hundreds of us, into this hellish vessel they presume sea worthy. Hidden we must be in order to escape Poseidon’s wrath for this clear curse to his waters.

Sleep escapes me as well. Constant wails and shrills keep me from resting my senses yet I can no longer sense the presence of my limbs due to these cramped quarters that confine me. I hear the tongues of many, some foreign and some familiar yet all seemingly loosing their meaning in my ears. Except for the words of the pale men; those words never fail to prelude some sort of terrific horror, and then the shrieks again.

I think of my sister when I hear a young girl’s cry. Is it her that screeches this time? Has it been her before? Or has she given into silence?

A constant stale odor stings my nostrils day in and day out. From waste to blood to who knows what all in together as if conspiring some great evil deed. And the death, I smell that too. That scent is the most menacing. The stench eminates from every corner, from every crook, from everyone who suffers both breathing and not for we all are in a state of death down here.

Cold metal constricts me as it cuts and chafes the shell of what I loosely call my humanity or what still remains of it. Day by day their weight increases or maybe my will to sustain them diminishes. My legs have lost their feeling and I wonder if I will ever rise again. I feel the presence of what I always knew and always was leaving me with each passing minute as I leave them behind. I feel the shackles cut deeper as the chains yank us to our feet. The unforgiving restraints sever me as I now experience the cool sea air on my skin. Sensation returns to my extremities as they stretch again for the first time in what could have been weeks. The vibrations from the fiddlers and drummers and the pounding from the dancing of others moves up through my feet but somehow the intended message gets lost in translation. I feel nothing.

I sample the rich air that marks a sharp contrast to the stale and piercing flavor of down below. The taste is more fulfilling than any of the slop that they force-fed me could ever be. There’s a delicious taste I long for more though. A bittersweet flavor, but appetizing all the same. The air taste cooler now as a sprint causes my breath to accelerate. That flavor I long for is so near, just a few more steps until it is mine.

The bittersweet taste of salt water is so refreshing and so liberating.

Buffalo Soldier - Bob Marley & The Wailers