Henrietta Marie
In my
dream, I am a child, playing on the beach.
The air is
warm and humid, as the waves of the Atlantic roll to shore.
Briny and
warm, the water feels soothing to my feet, ankles, calves, and knees.
The sun
displays its affection for me, turning my skin from cinnamon, to sienna, then
to mahogany.
In my pink
bathing suit, I rush to greet a frothy wave, as it tumbles gracefully to shore.
On the
horizon is a massive ship, of an ancient design, a schooner.
She
floats, coming closer and closer to shore.
She captivates me; mouth open, I stare at her.
Christened
“Henrietta Marie,” she is a slave
ship. A vessel designed to hold a living
human cargo,
on wooden shelves, like canned fish. I recognize her from my history book.
Henrietta Marie
floats imperiously, her passengers
immersed
in agony and humiliation. She is
gloriously gruesome.
Copyright
2006
By
Angeline Bandon-Bibum
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