Our love is as foul as the water that flows beneath our feet. Our love is no more then a problem in our town. “How could a white girl marry a black slave.” my mother expressed.

My father is out in the fields, in the dire times of war, not knowing his only daughter to marry a black slave. His freedom is so near sighted that he wishes all blacks to be shipped up to the front lines and fight for their freedom.
Not knowing that the ones who hold them back are the ones who are doing all the fighting in the first place. Every night I wish upon a star, for a place as free to do what the heart desire. My mother has cursed, cried, and sent out messages to all towns’ people to help her guide her only daughter to rightful ways of the lord. How could the lord be right when he only deprives us of love, and freedom? I witness many executions to who bears the unholy love. A woman is no longer to marry a man of any different, but to marry a man who is pure. What gives the man the right to judge who is pure and who is not.