Uprooted. (Taylor Sloey-Lafayette, LA)

"Uprooted."

When my hometown finally saw the sky
It sucker punched us in the throats
Left us breathless
It said: I’m going to keep you awake some nights without touching you…
You see in this hometown, where you learned to ride a bicycle,
Twelve year olds work 16 hour days Getting cut by corn leaves,
Winter reigns 8 months of the year
And you got grounded for dating a black boy…
…so…you left.
Blindly jumped into the nearest river
And let it wash you
Let it Carry you
Til you could see the mouth of the ocean.
And this place
The ground is so soft it sinks out from beneath your feet
In this place
The people don’t mature with their years but continue to party like college freshmen well into their 80s
This place
That’s held onto a heritage,
Unable to forget the past because they can’t even bury your dead
This place.
That was hiding the kindest pair of green eyes you’ve ever known,
This place, is a paradise.
And you wonder how the rest of the country has forgotten it,
Never really knew it,
Has been SO misguided about it.
My hometown’s lost treasures have washed away,
Pocket watches and old rings,
Pages of notebooks,
Memories and love have washed away,
and settled down here
where it builds our land
our paradise
and upon it we stand.

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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