She Would Be King

by Wayétu Moore

The darkness of her curse was powerful, but not as powerful as his title, his bravery. And still, whose bravery is not provoked by darkness?

Gbessa cried for the old man and woman, perhaps once a Poro king and witch, perhaps once a fisherman and the mother of a cursed child, perhaps once the forest.

Alike spirits separated at great distances will always be bound to meet, even if only once; kindred souls will always collide; and strings of coincidences are never what they appear to be on the surface, but instead are the mask of God.

Perhaps none who learned to love, and love well, love like Maisy, could ever be cursed.

They approached the shore trembling, but it was the fear that fueled them, the final chance to defend their black mothers and names, their tortured histories and all who were left behind, all who would never see freedom.