WHAT JUNETEENTH MEANS (TO ME)

The Pantoum

A seed slowly fractures the soil as it ascends
We are descended on the ground before an angel appears
With no trumpets or ember shouting from the ground he whispers
Freedom was the only thing we understood for it was once engraved in our bones

We are descended on ground as the angel appears
With his lips he sings the emancipation
Freedom was the only thing we understood as it became engraved on our bones
With his voice he broke the shackles of our descendant

With his lips he sings the emancipation
And we dropped our hoe and weaved baskets
With his voice he broke the shackles of our descendant
And we start to rise to the kingdoms of heaven

We dropped our hoe and weaved baskets
With the trumpets and embers screaming, he whispers
And we start to rise to the kingdoms of heaven
Our seed slowly fractures the soil as it ascends

Declaration of the Dancing Freedmen

My body is
more than currency for the creatives
Tears paint museum cobblestones
Footprints leave a mark
on my pigment, mixing dust
forgotten landmarks onto me
My ancestors bones hold up our temples
My great grandmothers’ clavicle, a shining trophy of conquering
My uncles spine
a whip
The pain remembering
holding my spirit
I hide my heart in my hand
and pray on my knees
feel the scalding sugar cane burn
my flesh, my fingers move automatically
Picking at plants instead of dreams
I move
the rhythm of a thousand dancing freedman
Unknowingly still shaking in their shackles
Momma says

don’t wander too far from home

But the black plum vines
their roots chased my name away
So
I Close my eyes and
Listen to the hum of the Euphrates River

Momma says

Don’t stay out past the streetlights

But I only feel safe in the dark
My mind cannot see the light of day
Then
They are painting a mural of me
before I have even taken a breath
Before the paint can even dry

We are painting another one
I’m sick of carving our loved ones into paint
When they were destined for history books
I’m sick of having to lower my tone
When the room is really not big enough for my voice
I’m sick of people telling me to calm down
Because my skin is louder than my words to them
I’m sick that time goes on even after our hearts stop
Momma always said

life comes and goes

Yet too many of our young black youth seems to be frozen
My life a tick, in the winding clock of reality
I am reminded that time waits for no one and nothing
Fingerprints all over my forehead
Brow bone slick
My temples, bleeding
they left after they pressed my head into the curb
5 point star that impales my neighborhood
White hands cover my mouth
Welcome to America they say
I am drowning them out because
My ears hum of moroccos
My soul, traveling fine sands of Nigeria
Rings of fire around my wrists and ankles
Chained to the rhythm along with my brothers and sisters
We dance
Jasmine flowers entangling on a branch
Tear of august night rests on my eyelash
I press my back
to the glass pane of a ship window
Here in America
I can bend and rule the same volatile waters
That my ancestors struggle with
The Salt water fusing with their willpower
I stand next to my enslavers
I refused to give up my mind long ago
My skin has forgotten the leather on my back
Air softens
in the absence and exhale of a whip crack
I am reckless
My curls tumble over one another
A hundred brown hands woven together in my thick plait
I taste the honey of freedom
Because it is a sweet
And I never forget that

Define Juneteenth

People like me know better
Than to dream of houses by the lake
Cause nightmares called reality wake us
We dont dream too much no more
People like me know better
Than to BE black & SHOW it
Simultaneously
You gotta ease people into your blackness
Not just throw them in
And hope they survive

Sometimes Juneteenth means freedom

The only day I can toss people into my blackness
And be careless
As to if they can swim
Ain’t nobody asked my ancestors
Before they was thrown from from ships
I wish you could translate
My blackness into them textbooks
But you wouldn’t know what to do with all of it
Whether to start at the roots of my tender head
Or the bottom of my well worn heels
Maybe it’ll help you understand the weight we carry
Weights like these too heavy for pages

Sometimes Juneteenth means rest

My forefathers ain’t die for me not to
Tonight I dream of houses in Highland Park
No reality comin’ to wake me
Shake me
‘Til I’m drawn back to sanity
Tonight I’m insane
But I know better
Than to BE black AND mentally ill in your presence
I’d be another Porter Burks
May he rest so justice never has to

Sometimes Juneteenth means

whatever you want it to.

Hope and Pride

Juneteenth, a symbol of hope and pride,
A day to remember, to cherish and abide.
It speaks of freedom, and breaking the chains,
Of shackles and slavery, long-suffered pains.
It’s a celebration, of courage and might,
Of standing tall, in the face of the fight.
Of perseverance, in the quest for the right,
To live with dignity, and bask in the light.
Juneteenth, a reminder of the past,
Of a time when liberty was denied and cast.
But it’s also a beacon, a ray of hope,
That brighter days ahead, we can cope.
It’s a symbol of unity, of coming together,
Of embracing diversity, of loving one another.
Of breaking down walls, and tearing apart seams,
Of creating a world, where love freely gleams.
So let us celebrate, this special day,
And revel in the freedom, that we display.
Let us remember, the struggles of the past,
And work towards a future, that will forever last.

Freedom

Freedom a word of our imagination
We know we will never have liberation
My brothers and sisters face discrimination
Wondering if we will see the pretty flowers
The warm sun glistening off our dark skin
without shackles to our feet.

Right now freedom is our dream
A dream that keeps me alive
As my hands hurt and my back bleeds
This dream of freedom is all I need
Working and cooking
is what we are programmed to do
White men saying we’re happy knowing it’s untrue

We hear laughter and celebration
I can hear the clinks of drinks
And the childrens screams
As they party I hear
We are free!
But who is we
White men celebrate their independence

The freedom for them and their descendants
If they are free then who are we
Are we not worthy of independence, freedom
I ask myself once again
If they are free then who are we

White men call it the 4th of july
Although my sisters and I are
Still chained to this free land
With no freedom attached to our names
We sit here and bleed
You hang us from trees
While you live your life with glee

I wonder when can I live my life with glee
I pray I can celebrate and smile like they did
Once we are free

But right now that is all a dream
I hear mummering and cries
People looking around surprised
The words brought tears to my eyes

You are free
The white men scowling as they click their teeth
My heart sinks
I wonder am I truly free
The shackles drop from my feet
My heart skips a beat
Tears fill the air
I feel complete

Shivers go down my spine as I feel the breeze
With no shackles to hold me down
I run as fast as I can through a meadow
I see birds around me singing their beautiful songs
I feel the sun reflecting off my dark skin
happiness overfills my lungs

My toes swimming through the green grass
Seeing flowers I had never seen before
Their vibrant colors catching my eye
June 19th the Day of Hope
Freedom and liberation

Juneteenth

As the sun kisses my melanated skin,
Rosewood Avenue paves the way for antique 70s automobiles and trucks you only see in East
Austin.

From Dr. Dre, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Kendrick, and one of my personal favorites Stevie Wonder–
Tunes like these cue everyone into Juneteenth’s groove.

People who share the same colored skin as me stroll down the streets throwing out their cards to
promote their local black businesses
and, along come young black children performing dances for their people with matching yellow, red,
and black clothing.

Juneteenth is a time to celebrate.
The significance of our ancestors and the war they fought for freedom.
A time when families like mine annually spend the day at Old Settlers with others in our community.

Cooked with love and care
There are special aromas in the air.
Soft-breaded funnel cakes with cinnamon sweet as sugar,
Barbeque and burnt ends that you can smell from the parking lot
Never store-bought.

Although only celebrated once a year,
I wouldn’t want to celebrate anything else
Anywhere else
But here.

Allowed

As a young black woman
What I’m allowed to do is wander through this gilded age and wistfully dream
from afar the life that could’ve been
What I’m allowed to do is endure the many distasteful looks as I’m proudly
adorned in my traditional big hoops and baggy jeans
What I’m allowed to be is someone who is confident enough, but not outspoken
What I’m allowed to be is someone whose timid and can’t be revolutionary
What I’m allowed to be is the stepping stool for those “better” than me
What I’m allowed to be is someone who carries others, but tolerates them receiving
the glory and praise
What I’m allowed to feel is unquestionably grateful that I reside in the land of the
“free”
What I’m allowed to feel is not anger, but unwavering appreciation for setting my
ancestors free
What I’m allowed to see is my people continuously struggle under the weight of
our capturer
What I’m allowed to see is the savage killings against my people be justified
What I’m allowed to receive is the uncanny hatred that oozes from my “equals”
daily
What I’m allowed to receive is not an apology, but a slap in the face that clearly
states “You should be grateful you’re even free”

But when the blazing red, white, and blue sneak behind me ready to pounce, I’m
no longer allowed
I’m no longer allowed to just simply take a refreshing walk at night
I’m no longer allowed to beg and plead for my life
I’m no longer allowed to have hope for an exceptional future where I won’t live in
fear because of my blackness

So now that the shackles are still chained on my burdened and dejected body
I’m only allowed to be a prisoner to the corrupt system that knows nothing of me
but the color of my skin

I’m not even allowed to be black, to connect with my people and culture

To be quite honest, sometimes I’m not even convinced we’re allowed to live
But at least we’re allowed to be “free” right?

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Juneteenth for me,

a Black teenage man,

Is a day of freedom

a day I can stand

In the face of slavery and inequality

And know that I have the chance to be free

It’s a time to celebrate and to have joy

It’s a time to remember the strength of our people

the strength that won’t decoy

It’s a day to recognize the past

But not allow it to keep us down, no

we must stand fast

It’s a day to appreciate the progress

And the progress that still needs to be made

It’s a day to remember all the people who fought

the courage they had to face the struggles

they sought Juneteenth is a day of pride

a day that gives me strength and I can’t hide It’s a day of hope

of courage

of joy a day that unites us

a day to employ the power of freedom

a day to keep striving

It’s a day to remember

a day to move on

a day that is special

Juneteenth is the song.

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(Gabriel is a Bilingual student. His primary language is Spanish. He wrote the below poem in Spanish and
then translated into English himself.)

¿Esto es la paz? Si lo es por favor que nunca se acabe, que no acabe este bullicioso silencio
que calma mi ser, que no se acabe la habilidad de ver lo hermoso, esa belleza inesperada que
nos da la vida ese momento en el que ves un árbol y notas cada una de sus hojas, hojas que
caerán y vivirán una vida lejos de su hogar, que las llevara el viento hasta donde nadie puede
ver, ¿y si es eso la paz? Ver la magia del tiempo y la naturaleza a todo su esplendor y a la vez
no ver ni saber nada en realidad, solo vivir un segundo en lo que llamamos vida no es nada y lo
es todo, ¿y si eso es la paz? Ser consciente de ser todo y nada a la vez, si, eso es la paz, esa
es mi dulce paz.

Is this peace? If it is, please let it never end, let this boisterous silence that calms my being not
end, let the ability to see the beautiful not end, that unexpected beauty that life gives us, that
moment when you see a tree and notice each of his leaves, leaves that will fall and live a life far
from home, that will be carried by the wind where no one can see, what if that is peace? Seeing
the magic of time and nature in all its splendor and at the same time not really seeing or
knowing anything, just living for a second in what we call life is nothing and everything, what if
that is peace? Being aware of being everything and nothing at the same time, yes, that is
peace, that is my sweet peace.

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Juneteenth, a day of great significance,
For all those who believe in freedom’s deliverance,
A time to reflect on the struggles we’ve faced,
And the victories that we’ve earned through our grace.

As a Hispanic male of just fourteen,
I’ve learned of the trials that African Americans have seen,
Of the pain and suffering endured for years,
Of the injustice and heartache that brought many to tears.

But Juneteenth is a symbol of hope,
Of a better future and a new way to cope,
It’s a day to celebrate the strength of a people,
And the legacy they’ve left, that remains so lethal.

It’s a day to honor those who’ve fought for freedom,
And to acknowledge the battles that we’ve overcome,
For it’s through their struggles and determination,
That we can stand proud as a nation.

As a young Hispanic, I stand in solidarity,
To those who fight and still do for their equality,
And I’m grateful for the freedoms that we have today,
Thanks to the great sacrifices of those who paved the way.

So let us come together on this Juneteenth day,
To honor those who decided to disobey,
And to renew our commitment to the fight,
For justice and equality, and to make things right.