Texas Cottonwood My soft gray lumber walled this Black American church, a home you bastards burnt not to resurrect but to bury in ashes. Breastfed on blood distilled from shackling stolen people, thorn-yoked, in cages, you lit torches and sang Hell no, you aren’t free! Hell no, you aren’t free! My smooth branched roof charcoals the ground a young artist scours, gathering to his slave-descendant chest braised bits of bone, chipped teeth, seared splinters of hope to build an altar syllable by syllable, from beloved family names now forever out of your filthy reach, in the chapel of my yellow-green leaf canopy. Karen Pierce Gonzalez
I saw an art installation depicting this #HateCrime. Still haunts me. Happens TOO MANY times; once = too much. #PoemsAbout #BurnItDown @alanparry83.bsky.social @brokenspinearts.bsky.social #KeepCreative #PoetsSupportPoets #ReadRepostReply #AddAlt #PoetsofBlueSky #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #Racism