I don’t remember
I want to remember the life before mine,
I want to remember my people being sold and moved about as unimportant objects
I want to remember the torches of orange flames being hurled through the midnight sky
I want to remember the clear fresh water shooting out of the hoses onto their fragile bodies
I want to remember the tan coarse rope tied tightly around brown necks
I want to remember the fire that killed not one but five innocent baby girls
I want to remember the long black whips that struck and scarred my people’s bodies
I want to remember the jailhouses that were overflowing with my kind
I want to remember when we straightened our backs so no man could ride it any longer
I want to remember the star that shone in my peoples and guided their feet toward freedom
But then again I don’t want to remember those memories
For if I do those horrid, vivid images will lurk in my eyes haunting me
Until a mixture of rage and hate become me
Forcing me to once again take not that the worst has passed
And to savor the victory
That still till todays infuriates some