The Struggle for The Sun

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It was always a bright day outside. I never really noticed my surroundings since I was always so fixed upon one particular task at a time. You see, us workers never really got time to be fixin’ our eyes lolleygaggin’ around at anything other than this here labor. I was only nine and a half last time I remember me ma and pa. I’m now fifteen. I was separated from them as I was placed into this here slave field. I’d just bout give up hope in ever seeing the bright side of this here situation but I’d always look up at the sun and keep pushin’ for a brighter day. Everyday I’d stand next to one man, one man that gave me my inspiration. He’d always speak his mind telling about stories of freedom and revolution. I’d just about throw an ear or two each time he’d open his mouth for a public broadcast to all of the other workers out there on this here plantation. “God is gonna provide. God see’s the struggle in our hearts and rewards for their just reward. We all just have to keep our struggle goin’ and keep on pushin’ for our just reward,” he’d say. I’d just about givin’ up on God. I mean, what did he ever do for me? Hell, what did I ever do to him? Why do I deserve to be punished like this? But deep down in ma’ heart, I’d be knowin’ what he’d say was true. Something just kept me pushing for the sky, pushing for hope. Hope was alive and it came with the struggle that we put forth every day. Even up until that one final day, where slavery was abolished and we all led to live our lives on our own personal jurisdiction; I will never forget that same hope that kept me pushing to reach the sun.





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