Miss Callie's Song

I really see this as a spoken word piece. Maybe an audio version will soon follow

Callie never said much to anyone

She sat alone in front of the old slave house, watched the wagons roll up the lane

and stop in front of the Master’s manor

 

She never talked much to her family, usually kept her eyes on the ground.

She buried herself in her work and kept to the tasks she was assigned,

and for that, the Master’s family loved her.

            Or at least, they loved her work ethic-

the Master was not the type to show sympathy towards Callie’s people

 

But on some nights, after she’d spent the day cleaning and cooking for the Master

After her brothers had tired their bones working the fields,

 

Callie sang

 

Callie sang and sang,

making up for the time her voice stayed idle.

She sang stories and sang sermons in a voice that rang as loud as Sunday morning bells,

held a passion that burned as hot and bright as the sun on the fields at midday

 

They say when Callie sang, every tree in the woods sang and danced in time!

They say choirs of horses, of cows, of birds of every shape and size,

the spirits of the young men fallen, and all the children for miles

joined in and sang a joyous harmony!

 

They say when Callie sang,

people  four states to both sides and all the way up past Virginia could here!

That all around folks stopped to listen,

and those that had forgot, learned how to laugh, cry, love, and breath again!

And they say that the cloud of cannon smoke and tension cleared,

the cries of the dying ceased, a gentle air of forgiveness and empathy

made itself known, and for a while, the world seemed a little bit brighter!

                           ………

 

And on those nights when Callie sang, she was at peace.

And though they would return in the morning, on those nights,

The shackles of her bondage removed themselves from her

the scars on her back faded, her calloused hands and feet were smooth again.

And Callie, was a free woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Vanessa]

In attempt to stay away from the already stated, this has an air of.. joy about it.
I almost made a simmaly in my mind, comparing Callie's hope to something that can make the world shine, like she made the tough times somehow alright for a moment, and how the "cannon smoke and tension cleared" when she sang.

Furthermore, this gives me personally some sort of hope. That can be much needed on days like today, and Callie's song is surely brought to me through your words.
Fantastic words; feel completely free to send me read requests at any time, because your work is wicked ;)

[Celtic Cat]

wow, second piece in a row I've read tonight that I want to follow up with an AMEN! This is a really great piece, I can almost feel Callie's spirit soaring in the breeze. What a lovely write about a glimpse of bliss in the midst of hell.

[SM Davis]

Having come to read this again, I must say...I still LOVE IT!

[Nancy Lee Shrader]

Beautiful, just beautiful

[SM Davis]

THIS IS FABULOUS!!!!!!!!! JAMES....james...JAAAAAAAAAMES!!!!!!! FANTASTIC. ABSOLUTELY STUNNING. Now, we all know I prefer the abstract to the mundane. I loved this. JUST AS IT IS.... Look at poe...all of his poems were stories. ALL OF THEM. I really liked this A LOT!!!!

[Andrew Glass]

Touching and powerful. This captures perfectly the essence of a slave's life. Having only one hope to hang onto, and for Callie, it was singing. This is a beautiful piece and the form is excellent. This may very well be one of your greatest pieces ever. Nice work.

[Wildfleour]

I think some fine tuning needs to be done.

[Blackbirdsong]

This reads more as a story or narrative than as poetry to me, and yes I do think it would be great as others have said as spoken word. The repetition of her "not saying much" in the beginning stuck out to me a bit, because it's a strong statement of her character that for me doesn't need to be repeated to come across as such. There are other things like certain modernisms you use like "task assigned" and "word ethic." There was no work ethic for a slave...either do your work or get beaten or sold for example. There are other things like her having her family around her - which wasn't the norm since families were routinely separately and sold away from each other. Also slaves didn't have houses, but shacks which were usually badly built with one small room. I've seen recreations of those shacks and it's amazing just how horrible those conditions were. Also I'd like to see something about what she looks like, what her voice sounded like, raspy, strong...etc. You convey that to a degree by having those in four states hear her, but just the same something more perhaps. This piece just needs some fine tuning here and there and I look forward to coming back to this when you've added the spoken word. Hopefully you'll notify me when you do since it would be lovely to hear this.

[W.k.kortas]

Emily is very much spot-on here; there are spots here and there where it does hit the ear a bit oddly, but, as Em points out, that entails just minor sanding and varnishing. It is, as she notes, both powerful and musical, and just a few tugs and tightenings away from being something truly special.

[Emily B]

James, do you realize how powerful your words are? I got chills. It reads like a mountain legend. It reads like a passed-down story. But, my GOD, how it sings!

In the first section, you might consider changing manor to something a little more colloquial, "fine white house". Or something.

Or at least, they loved her work ethic- [they loved her labor] maybe?

Polish it up. It needs very little to make it shine as bright as Sunday morning. Read it aloud a few times and see how it sounds to your ear. I'm excited about this one. I might ask to borrow it for the battefield some day.