Behind her cart she slowly crept,
Her eyes tell of bitter times she wept.
Her fingers gnarled and now bent tight,
Worked hard for others many a night.
The pain she’s had, such horrid sorrow,
How’d she live through her lost tomorrows?
Dragged down roads she had to travel,
Life must have seemed it would unravel.
What does she think of those days gone by,
Before civil rights when futile to try?
Days she was told she was least,
Despised, mistreated, used as a beast.
Her children disappeared, often hung,
The pain so dark, so deeply it stung,
Her lover denied, refused his place,
These painful things, because of her race.
Her scars are covered deeply hidden,
Talk of those days, are now forbidden.
Anger and sorrow for the past,
Some say is racism, crude and crass.
Now at eighty what does she see,
When she looks this way, and she sees me?
Who remembers her struggles today?
What a bitter price she has had to pay?
Does she feel the pain anymore,
Or has she locked, no barred that door?
Today history crept past me,
I thought, “what does she feel, what does she see?”
-Laketia W. Carrell
It’s Black History Month, help teens understand the sacrifices that were forced on the black community to make this country great. Teach them that a price was paid, that enables them to sit in classrooms, shop at Macy’s, eat at Mcdonalds, use public restrooms, buy houses, vote, ride freely on busses….
Don’t let them forget this woman, her lover, her children, her grandchildren….us.
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