Despair & Hope

Over my journey I have been to many a place

Near and far my travels have brought me spanning from territories civilized to savage 

London to Liamuiga and everywhere in between, I have seen how backwards things have been 

For those dwelling in ignorance shy away from unfamiliarity, condemning those of other plights

The ruling of labels civil and savage have been betwixt in my sight.

My name is Liam Sanson, formerly Raquel, born in Liamuiga and raised on the sea 

A new name given to me was my only gift for leaving my home behind

A quiet village with the occasional conflict, my heart longed for adventure 

Though there was one thing I left behind, a shining beacon named Sycorax

An outcast berated for her connection to nature, yet called upon when advantageous 

For some odd reason she had not only my sympathy, but my affection.

Sycorax was strong, when faced with adversity she didn’t back she away

She had lived just as anyone else despite the fear others had in her, but it didn’t stop her

I had asked her, “Why don’t you resent them? Do you truly feel no ill intent toward them?” 

“No” She replied “Fear is natural for what people do not understand, everyone has it” 

“And it affects everyone.” Her words resonated within me like a spark starting a fire 

Without thinking, I asked her another question, “What do you fear?”

A simple question that many would answer, the dark, deep water, the unfamiliar sounds at night 

They were reasonable, but what Sycorax had replied with made me doubt what true fear was

“Abandonment. Not in mind, but in spirit.” The words spoken were wise, unlike words of others

“To be left alone, surrounded by those you care about is what I truly fear” I thought about it

“But how can you be alone if surrounded by others?” I asked, and a quick reply came

“Forgotten, brushed aside, and mislabeled from what I stand for.”

And those were the last words we spoke until a fateful day in the future.

Being stuck on the island was too much to bear, I could stand it no longer

I snuck out at night stowing away on a year-round schooner, the HMS Tailor at the age of ten

They were making the return trip to London at the time bringing back fine sugars and tobacco

Unnoticed for quite some time, I was found wandering the hold in search of food

The white men looked at me strangely, all but one hadn’t batted an eye

The captain Sir Henry Loche gave me a shirt and pants before deciding it was too late to return

The kindness of Loche had been a treat throughout along with lessons of English and culture.

Arriving to London in a year's time, he sheltered me from the cold and continued to nurture me 

“Why does he treat me differently than everyone else? What does he see that others do not?” 

Given some pounds to purchase two loaves of bread, sharp glances were thrown from shadows 

Bruised and battered I returned with nothing to show for it and no help along the way

I asked, “Why does the world hate me, what have I done?”

The big man Loche had approached me, grabbing my arms in each hand and said “Nothing.”

Over time I began to see the truth in Sycorax’s words that were still fresh despite the years 

I would be alone if not for Loche, he’s like a father to me protecting me from the shadows 

The only man who would give me a chance throwing fear out the window

It later that day he would teach me of religion and of the wisdom to come from it 

He taught me of a man, Jesus of Nazareth a man who could work miracles 

That man could cheat death and was a hero to some, but he was betrayed.

As his wisdom grew despite his final resting, his religion had become greatly influential.

Why was he betrayed, did he deserve it, who would want such a figure to fall?” I asked Loche 

He didn’t know the answer, but he tried his best the best he could to explain it

“Maybe some feared his power, maybe it was greed, maybe others were jealous.” 

“Jesus was left alone to bear the sins of his people and he died for it.”

I was inspired by the tale, “Was there a way to stop the betrayal? Why was it followed through?” 

He too was an outsider surrounded by his people, like someone I once knew

Yes, he was like Sycorax, cast aside by those around her due to the fear held within.

Year after year Loche took me on the voyage around Liamuiga

I’ve always wondered about the life I gave up, the people, and the nature of the island 

The air was much fresher compared to the estate at London, a thick smog always in the lungs

The sea felt fresh and free, but I was still shackled by something.

Loche had given me one final gift before the tragedy, the knowledge of the north star

He had taught me the maps and navigation techniques only privy to those in the Royal Navy 

At the age of fifteen, he had given me a test I was to make the trip with him at my side.

Crew and cargo ready we had departed, the breeze beckoning a cold future 

Stopping for wine in France, spices in Spain, and making port across the west coast of Africa 

Near the southern tip, a man and sickly woman approached, she was bearing a child soon due 

The man had a strange build, tall, skinny, but a big head, and eyes that peered into the soul

He spoke in a language unfamiliar to us, pointing at the ship then to the belly of his wife 

“My wife needs medicine, there is talk of a witch who grants wishes nearby and helps all” 

This was spoken in a language like what I’ve heard in the past on Liamuiga.

“What is the witch's name?” I asked him in a language long since used and broken

“Sycorax” He muttered, staring at the sky as if a star were about to fall on us all 

He introduced himself as Cadulné and his wife Reispon

I knew the path to Liamuiga and had allowed them passage aboard the Tailor 

Every waking second of his was spent caring for his feverish wife, until his eyes buckled

Then one night he came to me alone at the wheel asking, “Do you think we’ll make it soon?” 

I reassured him it was only two days away before we made port.

“Did the people take her for granted?” That was one of the questions after hearing of Sycorax 

Her words were still inside of me and haven’t moved since the day they were spoken

“What became of her that she was pushed out even further, why a witch?”

I was alone on the deck to ponder with my thoughts, “She had grown in her craft, but why?” 

“She helped everyone who came to her, but why? Why do they call her a witch?”

I needed to know, this time I would stop in Liamuiga and venture to the town

I would find out what happened while I was away to push such a person out.

The night after, around the same time he approached me, this time I asked first 

“How long has your wife been with child?” a reply quickly shot from his mouth

“That child is cursed! Ever since he came to, my wife has been a step away from death!” 

“I want to be rid of him, that is why we seek the witch Sycorax, to take away this curse.” 

He stormed off back into the quarters and a fowl wind had begun to stir

Lighting shot across the sky, booming like the shots of cannons Waves crashed like the sounds of screams

The sea had dug itself out, almost like a mouth before swallowing us whole.

“Maybe the boy really was cursed. Maybe that curse was brought to us.” I thought 

Floating along the ocean’s surface, the light gave me the power to open my eyes 

Nothing but the bodies of dear friends and those who showed me kindness floated along

All that led up to this point, gone in an instant with no hope to cling to 

With one last gasp I fell into despair

“Maybe the world really does hate me. Maybe it was I who bear the curse.”

The moonlight had shone like a bullet piercing through the night waking me 

Cursed to live on marooned on an island with no recollection of where I was

After coughing up water and mustering the strength to walk, I came across a familiar place 

A quiet village with the occasional conflict was before me, but something had felt missing

There was gossip of a foul witch resurrecting the dead and taking it for her own, the same name 

“Sycrorax” whispered here and there, the name of an outcast who was used by everyone.

I thought to myself, “Would a witch so foul help everyone without second thoughts?” 

“Would bringing back the dead really be such an unseemly act?”

To turn a world of darkness into light giving hope for the future 

Such an act would never label someone as foul

I recalled the story I was told of Jesus of Nazareth, he was a miracle worker beloved by many 

He could resurrect the dead and perform the acts deemed witchcraft by those here

What was the difference between the two?

Dreary and exhausted, I made my way to the witch’s tree and was greeted by a strange figure 

Eyes of grey, blue stained skin, this was the witch they were talking about

Her appearance truly did resemble that of a deity, almost mystical in nature 

I told her of my past, of how I met her and stole away after longing to be free

“Please Sycorax, I ask only for one thing. My life vanished in an instant taking all away” 

“Please, just give me a reason to live, give me hope.”

With a cry in the background I caught the glimpse of something

A dark figure, skinny, but with a big head and eyes that peered into the soul 

Before I could give a second thought, I asked one more wish

“What is the boy’s name?” I asked

With a crackling response a reply was given, “Dulé”

An odd feeling coursed through me, could it be fate that the boy resembled him?

“Please tell me what has happened, why do you live apart from everyone? 

“Why are you chastised so, did your fear really come true?”

“Not yet” She replied, “While some may see me for what I’m not, some still do.” 

“There are those who don’t resent my name and still recognize me, such as you have.” 

“I still have people to care for and despite being moved away, I can’t say that I’m alone” 

It had been the opposite of what she said at that time

She was surrounded by no one, but she wasn’t alone yet.

I had realized one difference between Jesus and Sycorax, but was it the cause for such fear?

Sycorax was a woman unlike Jesus, could she be denied her miracles from such a trivial matter?

It was no reason to fear her power, but it was a cause nonetheless 

A witch she was not, but rather that resembling a figure such as Jesus

Misunderstood walking down the same path 

I’m afraid they would meet the same end.

In both body and name, the boy resembled Cadulné

The man who always stood by his partner in her time of need

The same man who scorned the child’s existence as a curse laid upon them.

I had my answers and bid Sycorax goodbye leaving to a nearby island to keep my curse away 

Yet time after time this I had seen this young boy diving deep into the water

With the balance of an acrobat he had climbed a ladder with no supports

With the skill of a captain had he finally sailed and approached me.

I knew who the boy was, there was no room for doubt

Dulé, the cursed boy who had been given a second chance at life. My hope for life.

The first thing he said to me was “Do you live here all alone?” to which I answered, “Yes.” 

He had told me of his adventures and skills learned through countless hours of practice 

Then another question came, “How did you end up here?”

“You look like the people here, but do not sound the same.” 

And so, I told my story of hate and sorrow to the boy 

About the identity of those who are savages.

“Only those who act without care are truly savages” I told him

“It matters not where you’re from. There are always beacons of hope in the darkness.” 

With the sun setting down, Dulé had bid farewell and returned to his island on his ship.

As the days went by, Dulé had shown up every now and again

I had decided to repay the kindness Sir Loche had shown me by teaching the boy about the stars 

I taught him about navigtaion and tools around a ship.

But before long a ship came round the island getting ever closer to making port 

A ship bearing Her Majesties sails flying the colors of Great Britain

My body moved on its own rushing to the meeting place of the ship and the ground  

Sitting there was a man, big red and puffy, and I asked, “Who are you, why are you here?”

With a surprised look he answered, “My name is Kit Everard here looking to find god’s land.”

A question was directed at me this time, the big red man said, “You’re English is pleasant.” 

“A welcome relief from all the tribal speak around here. Where did you learn to speak it?” 

And so, another was told my story the story of a stowaway brought to London

Of how his life was flipped in an instant and new hope given to him for life 

“I was a friend of Henry Loche” Kit replied

“I was saddened to hear of his departure to god’s domain, but I heard stories about you.” 

“How would you like to join my crew? We could use someone to translate the local talk.”

Eager to be out on the sea again, I replied “It would be a pleasure Sir Kit Everard.”

Then we returned to the ship and there I stayed for a few days before learning of a burned witch 

I marched to Kit’s quarters and demanded he tell me the meaning of the situation

But the only thing he said was “It was a fair misunderstanding that had been fixed by god” 

At this point, there was nothing I could do but leave food or gather medicines for the captives

About a year's time passed when one night, we were ordered to be on high alert

The lone sound of a musket and the faint, cackling cry of a burned witch who breathed her last.

I had tracked the gunshot to the source, there the barren mangled body of Sycorax laid 

Her body was lifeless, but she still seemed there, maybe in spirit?

I recalled a conversation we had one day while I stood guard

“I know that girl will abandon me, she already has. After I cared and taught for her, she left me.” 

I had said to her that “Ariel was the only one she could count on; she hasn’t abandoned you.” 

“In body no, but in spirit she has. No longer do I want to be a prisoner here or with her.”

I don’t know what caused Sycorax to think in such a way, but her body was still here 

Ariel had tried to escape and brought her along, I can’t imagine she left her

I wondered if fear had caused her sacrifice, or maybe it was the opposite.

Sycorax was gone, but she was still with us

Feared by those who didn’t understand her powers, worshiped by those who would use her 

She would be mourned by those who cared for her, not as a witch, but as a worker of miracles 

She had decided to take on the sins of Ariel and be cleansed with her sacrifice

She was gone, but everyone still knew she was here.

After all, she would never truly die if she lived on as a deity of the island Liamuiga.

It was clear what was happening, the villages were fighting back, and this was the start 

I knew who the real monster was, the red man, Kit Everard

The man who stole land and killed its people in the name of god 

The man who made a lover of his hostage and denied all responsibilities

“Is it wrong to be rid of such a monster?” I thought to myself

I vowed on my honor to be the one to end his life in the immediate conflict.

Stationed at the wall of New Belmont, I was ordered to return to the ship in the ensuing attack 

Musket in hand, I ran in search of the new salvation open to me

Kit Everard was nowhere to be found, only the flames of a ship set alight by a boy I taught 

As I came closer, a shock went through my body, and blood the color of a ripe apple came forth

Before me the world grew dark, and my last thoughts came

“It was a monster who started this. The boy, Dulé, my hope, please end this despair.” 

Finally, the man who cheated death and found a new hope had passed.

A victim of misfire, judged by his appearance as a threat 

Leaving his hope into the hands of the one who became his new hope.

I had no regrets; I was one to bear witness to the true figure of Sycorax 

She was a woman so skilled in her crafts that she had ascended to a deity 

She was a figure of fear, of compassion, or even companionship to some

A mother who could bring the dead to life, hailed as a witch for strange powers 

A woman, chastised for her gender sealing away her miracles

Everyone saw her in a different way, but there is no doubt what she was

Sycorax was a goddess, taking upon herself the evils labeled to her, but still giving back wishes

 She truly was a philanthropist who granted wishes even after death.

I hereby acknowledge that this project was completed on Waccamaw, Chicora, and/or Catawba territories.