Photo by Clarke Sanders on Unsplash
sunrise swallows me whole and
all of my ancestors lie before me,
the golden coins on their eyes
my train fare for the future
yet why can’t my feet move
a step and why does the sky not
have even a single star—the sun
suddenly run away somewhere even
the underground railroad can’t follow?
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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