The honeysuckle drapes along the edge of the creek banks, leaving an aroma that is very welcoming to my nose, as I walk up to the hillside tobacco field where my dad is cultivating the freshly set crop.
Like an obedient dog following after a master, I know my place.
The gritty creek rock crunch beneath my feet, but soon the road turns to beat down hay with two tire tracks where Dad has ridden up and down the hills so many times.
Lives sacrificed so that my path can be unobstructed.
I scurry up the hill, breathing in the fresh air but watching my feet as I go, making sure that there is nothing that has crossed in front of me.
Like a snake.
Or a stick.
I wish I could leave the farm and never look back.
Escape, assent, fly.
Troubled thoughts are trapped.
Instead of telling someone how I feel, I keep all my thoughts inside, hoping someone will ask, but no one ever does.
I am a sealed vessel.
A locked chest, my own personal diary, a vault with a secret code.
I walk up to the tobacco patch, because that’s where I am expected to be, even though it’s no longer where I belong.
Like an obedient dog following after a master, I know my place.
The gritty creek rock crunch beneath my feet, but soon the road turns to beat down hay with two tire tracks where Dad has ridden up and down the hills so many times.
Lives sacrificed so that my path can be unobstructed.
I scurry up the hill, breathing in the fresh air but watching my feet as I go, making sure that there is nothing that has crossed in front of me.
Like a snake.
Or a stick.
I wish I could leave the farm and never look back.
Escape, assent, fly.
Troubled thoughts are trapped.
Instead of telling someone how I feel, I keep all my thoughts inside, hoping someone will ask, but no one ever does.
I am a sealed vessel.
A locked chest, my own personal diary, a vault with a secret code.
I walk up to the tobacco patch, because that’s where I am expected to be, even though it’s no longer where I belong.