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SONG OF SOJOURNER TRUTH

Growing Up

The Colonel thought he owned me

just because my mama and daddy were slaves.

His son thought so, too, and sold me

when I was nine for a flock of sheep

and a hundred dollars. That was back when

they called me Belle, and I spoke only Dutch.

The new man—calling himself Master Neely—

he raped me everyday and beat me

with a bundle of rods and sold me two years later

to a tavern keeper. He sold me when I was eleven years old.

The tavern keeper sold me to Dumont,

and Dumont seemed kinder. I met Robert,

a slave like me, on a neighboring farm,

and I loved him. But the man who called

himself Robert’s Master, he said no, you cain’t

marry that girl down the road—because he knew

he wouldn’t own our children, Dumont would.

So he beat Robert good and hard for loving me,

and then, Robert died. He just up and died

from that beating and left me alone.

My daughter Diana came after her daddy died.

There she was in my arms, her sweet face,

her mouth milk-wet, her eyes like Robert’s eyes

when I looked down into her soul, and I could hear

Robert laughing, like he was right there,

like an angel come down to look over my shoulder

at this little girl we made, and sometimes

I felt his hands on my waist again, more

than ghost-memory, and sometimes I smelled

his sweat from the field, the fire of desire in his bones.

Dumont came to me when the baby was still nursing,

and said I had to marry, marry Thomas, for Thomas

was Dumont’s slave. Dumont saw I could

have babies and still work, and me and my babies

were strong. He wanted ’em for himself and his farm,

so that’s how it happened. I married Thomas,

and we had five children, all belonging to the man

who called himself Master—that’s what he thought was.

But the first with my new husband, my baby boy Thomas,

he died, right in my arms, the day he was born.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

The truth is marching on!

Finding Freedom

But Peter, Elizabeth, and Sophia, they lived.

My last three babies lived in those days when

the State of New York, they were going to emancipate

us all, and we’d be free. Well, freedom looks different

from my side, yes, it sure does. Dumont said

he would set me free a year before the day,

but he changed his mind, yes, he sure did, claiming

my injured hand stopped me from doing all

the work I should. All the work I should!

I spun him 100 pounds of wool and walked off.

All the work I should, please. I didn’t run! I walked

because I knew I was free. He promised, and I was free.