I know who this woman is and what she is feeling. I know as if I were alive in her time, standing next to her, watching the slave ship arrive to take more of her loved ones away. I was there in my mind. In some sort of time-lapsing possibility, I was there.
Maybe I am her, still carrying the scars of slavery in my soul. Maybe I will keep tossing and turning in all my graves and won’t ever settle, until every last child of slavery is free again.
Free in every sense of the word. Free from economic slavery. Free from spiritual slavery. Free from drugs, alcohol and self hatred. Free from grief and hopelessness. Free from a system that is set against them. Free from prison. Free from stupid drug laws. Free from institutionalized bullshit that makes them feel inferior. Free from the idea of a god that would judge them harshly. Free from every kind of indoctrination that limits the soul.
Free from all things at last!
But not only them. Me too, and all my Mexican compatriots. But not only us, the whole world.