Black History Month Day 28.
I would like to end this month with a favorite poem of mine. It reminds me of a 12-year-old me enthralled in the magic of books, marveling at the skill of the novelists and poets to ignite the imagination, and ignoring my chores. Dance entered my life much later, but with the same wonder and awe.
I started this month by presenting a poem from Phyllis Wheatley, a slave whose destiny was defined by her master. I end the month by offering a contemporary poet born and raised in the free world and who once said, “I write to be a recorder, observer, participant, and sometimes, even judge.”
By Allison Joseph (1967-)
Oh how I wanted to be a dancer
those Saturday mornings in the
Read the complete poem here.
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