Page of Volumes
There is page one of volumes.
It has writing but from planned illiteracy.
Pain marks many pages but there is beauty.
As dark people, we gave our light to the world.
Where there was death, we made life.
We had no voice, yet we were heard.
Our bodies were chained but our minds were free.
From the seat of hatred, love was born.
We are not like others but fashioned in sameness.
We are invisible but have been present since time began.
Scorned, reviled and whipped, we flourished.
There is page two of volumes.
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2017