Charleston,
what does it feel like
to walk on bones
buried under cobblestones;
historical markers
of muted melanin
with unmarked stories
never told?
Charleston,
why can’t you see
that your unmarked graves
deserve our earthly voice;
to resurface
and be seen?
Charleston,
have you forgotten
that every step forward
must begin
with a bow
to the buried?
This city
sings in silence.
Are you bold enough
to listen?
Charleston,
why do you
keep stepping on the past?
The ground does not forget.
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