Remembering the Civil War
At our first Poetry in Place event of 2018, students journeyed through the Civil War Museum in Harrisburg before settling in for an afternoon of poetry. The students recounted their morning among history, where the stories of slavery and war took form before their eyes. They recalled the restrictive devices used on slaves or the gruesome medical operations soldiers had to endure. Local poet Maria James-Thiaw guided them in reflection as they bore witness to those events through their poetry. In the course of an hour, history was reborn through their poetry, and transformed as it interacted with their experiences.
Read Their Poems Below!
Women, women, women
The strongest of them all
Nurses, teachers, sisters,
mothers standing strong
through it all
Brave and mighty
Disguised as men
Fought in battle
10 by 10
1 by 1 with a gun
ready to take this
challenge on
Leaving behind family
and almost ready cry
Almost ready to cry,
Ready to die
fighting in the war.
with tears in our eyes
Fear and worry
As no one was feeling sorry.
Free is what you will be
250, 350, 850, sold
as the family wasn’t told.
All the slaves want is to be
Free!
And free is what they one day will be.
All these white people standing in the way:
as the slaves get no say
The mothers were worried about their children,
so, they buried their feelings inside.
As their children were gone,
they were left behind to cry
The chains can separate them but never break them.
As their hope will never die
the whips and chains will define,
as the wounds heal into a scar,
their story of the unfair auction will take them far.
Why?
Why must you torture us, laugh at our agony, and harm us with your piercing slurs?
Why must you make us feel like we’re nothing, as if we were all mistakes and are a disruption and a threat to your world and your faith?
You claim you’re of Jesus, a man who is the prince of peace,
But your claims are false and you look mighty ignorant because everything you stand for is a huge pillar of hate...evil...cruelty...pain...and lies
How do you sleep at night?
Have you ever tried to walk a mile in our shoes? Do you ever think of what it’s like from our perspective?
To be beaten and tortured if you even breath the wrong way.
To be called hurtful names and be automatically labeled as something you’re not.
To be so depressed that you’re praying and begging God to kill you
And feeling so helpless that you have to use disguised hope as a safety blanket?
Just to make things worse what about being hanged, or physically abused, thrown in hot boxes, being forced to fight for amusement and so many more cruel things...
But we’re dumb, stupid, ignorant, right? We’re all these other things just because we want to be free?
Wow…
But no matter how much we speak nothing changes...
You use your devices and tools to latch us up
like we’re savages, like you don’t want us to stand up for greater things because your guilt is telling you to keep your mouth shut
What sense does that make?...
What is my bloodshed worth to you?...
If you like the shed of my blood then why not take yours too
We bleed the same blood either way, everyone does no matter the race or any difference between you and another person...
So what sense does that make?
That’s our perspective
There were lots of weapons there
Were daggers, muskets cannons. They
Fought with their weapons and fought
hard. There were so much blood and violence.
It didn’t last for long.
they were fighting,
violence, all out war,
Soldiers had families,
and some died, and their families were sad,
to have loved ones in war,
children in war,
The museum was all a circle,
Inside there were many important things that changed how it is today,
The civil war played a big part in how things are now,
how time passed, learning about the outcome of war,
how it went,
we were looking at all the weapons,
what they used to fight the war
was displayed,
how they used it,
sabers, guns, canons,
the museum showed which people used the weapons
beside them, the person that used them,
some were in crates, many were on display hooks,
you can lay the swords down and put where your weapon is.
As we stand on the pole
Fear was coming near me
like a hungry predator
I hear them say “give us the strongest one.”
My chest
begins to pound.
I see
my son frown.
As I scan,
I see,
one thin,
one fat,
one skinny--I say that my son is
the strongest one.
I realize that this isn’t a game.
If I was a slave I would cry for days
Whoopings, clothing, and work had me in a maze
Imagining the food I would have ate
I get curious as I’m passing the prison gate.
My master pulled us out one by one
By the looks of this place I could tell it would not be fun
I’m looking around for my elderly mother
But all I see is my older brother.
“Move your horses little girl,” a scary man said
As he was pulling a boy by his huge head.
They took the boy into the prison-like building
Then inside I felt an angry feeling
I was taken from behind by my arms.
By this time I knew I was in harm.
As I entered, I saw a different group leaving.
I looked straight across and saw my mother grieving.
“Mommy!” I cried in a loud voice
I ran towards her because I felt I had no choice.
I was chased by more than five men.
I thought to myself, Not this again.
I did not want to be separated from my mother.
The men were pulling them one after the other.
Witnessing my mother leave
I couldn’t help but to weep.
We were all assigned a position in line.
We were told not to waste any time.
Numbers being called out is all I hear,
Fingers being pointed here and there.
“She’s about 5’3, maybe 13.”
Now I definitely knew they were talking about me.
“Sold! 350.”
My life was changing forever…
Having thoughts of being that girl,
My life would be in a swirl.
Feeling powerless and depressed, I would still struggle for freedom.
Compared to then, I’m living in a kingdom.
I take my life for granted,
Everything to me was handed.
I apologize for not acknowledging your pain,
And now learning from you I have much to gain.
(They fought)
-- for us
To live together
With no one left out.
The warmth of the campfire rubbing
on our skin
like a sauna on high steam
the wind pushing on our faces
like getting slapped with a pillow.
We are waiting for our next fight,
while the fight is waiting for us.
I know we can
win, we can win, we can win...we...can...win
The fight is about to begin--
soldiers get ready.
The other team is looking scared,
man’s not so steady.
The others fighting and yelling about our next plan
while most will not see the next time we stand,
the glory of winning stands in our hand.
We can win, we can win, we can win.
While men fall they see no more,
like a guy in the DARK
without the light
not knowing.
Blood drips like Koolaid half full.
When right and wrong
is apart there must be a
battle.
My son and I are in a truck
Waiting to see what’s next.
I’m praying and wishing that our
Life is up for the best.
They yell at us and push us
Out the truck. And I’m just hoping
For good luck.
My son is crying and I’m crying
Too. Both of us know there’s nothing
We can do.
I can tell in my son’s face that he
Hates the master. But I can’t blame
Him he is a dirty bastard.
We see other men at the
House looking and smiling at my son.
And I can feel something in my heart that says something has to be done.
I dream a world where bullies are not bullies.