The Whipping Tree

Its leaves and branches weep bitterly,

Carrying anguish and horror in its roots.

It was used as an implement of torture.

Marred by fingernails scratched into its bark as

Enslaved arms stretched around its wide girth.

Embraced as the enslaved braced for pain

While the wind whispered,

“Give in and it will end quickly.”

But the advice was rarely taken.

Their will, like the tree, was unbreakable.

They too, like the tree, were bruised.

Only their iniquity was being born black.

Blood, sweat and tears, safely stored away in its trunk

Hoping one day to release a history of suffering.