It’s not the slashes through the timeline,
Not the practiced cursive
Spelling out names
That we must all know.
It’s the blank in between
The names we will never write.
It’s voices that didn’t get recorded
Speeches spoken at thanksgiving dinner tables,
To sisters and cousins.
It’s not just the cursive names on forever preserved papers
Not just the cursive dates on eighth grade social studies timelines,
It’s the bated breath and hopeful glances and calloused hands
From the spots on the timeline
That don’t get marked.
Posted in response to the challenge Emancipation Proclamation.
Comments
I love this! It has so much meaning in each word and blank space! It celebrates the life of every beautiful person created who never were recognized, but still impact the stories of thousands of others!
Ps. If you wouldn’t mind I would really love some advice on any one of my poems
Thank you so much. I'll go check out your poems for sure!
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