The Battle Within

July 23, 2015

There’s a pub here in Portland that attracts musicians and singers. The band is downstairs by the front door. The singers gather upstairs, close the door against the music from below, and share songs. And an occasional poem. Two nights ago, BW (aka my former neighbor CB), told us a story. It seemed an ancient will had been discovered among his mother’s effects, a will that deeded the lives of 5 slaves “and their increase” to future family members. This revelation came as quite a blow to BW and his brother, the processing of which led to this poem.

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