Dew
This article originally appeared in Southern Exposure Vol. 11 No. 5, "The Meaning of the McSurely Case: A Seventeen Year Inquisition." Find more from that issue here.
The following article contains references to sexual assault.
Harriet Tubman, nee Ariminta Ross and called "Hatt" was born in 1820 and died in 1913. She had an intuitive sense that always warned her of impending danger. This inward monitor whispered to her, "Arise, flee for your life!'' In a vision at night she saw horsemen coming and heard shrieks of women and children as they were being torn from each other. Hatt seemed to see a line dividing the land of slavery from the land of freedom. On the other side of that line she saw lovely white ladies waiting to welcome her and care for her. "Dew '' is part of a collection of poems dedicated to Harriet Tubman.
Take it easy, dear. Easy, easy, now. You're safe here, you're safe. No one is
going to harm you.
Three men were after you, you say? They were going to rape you? Oh my,
my. It's a good thing you got away from them.
Don't be afraid, dear. It's just my husband standing there. He found you
unconscious in the swamp. You must have fallen in that red clay mud and
then hit your head as you ran from those awful men.
Take a look dear, see? My husband wasn't one of those bad men who was
after you, was he?
Oh now, I understand. The men were white but younger than my Bob.
I know some whites do mean things to you colored people here in South
Carolina but we're not all that way. If it wasn't for my husband Bob here,
you might have drowned or worse.
No need to thank us, dear. Come on and get some of this hot soup in you.
You look nice and clean now. The soup will warm you up inside. Our three
boys should be home soon and they'll see you safely to your destination.
(Happily) Yes, we do have three boys. I shouldn't really call them boys
because they're fully grown men.
Yes, I did say three.
Yes, our youngest does have freckles and red hair that seems to glow in the
dark.
Yes, he does make that infernal sound of his by always cracking his knuckles.
But how did you know . . . ?
Look out child, you almost knocked the soup over.
Where are you running to?
Come back, dear, come back!
I told you our boys will be home soon and they would take you where you
have to go.
Do you think you'll be safe out there in that alligator swamp this time of
night?
ALONE??
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Freedom Justina Nubée
Freedom Justina Nubée is a psychotherapist, freelance writer, and puppeteer living in Columbia, South Carolina. (1983)