for Frederick Douglass

 

far from Cedar Hill where I know you,

but across the perilous deep, across a black

atlantic, an arm’s length away from the shore

& blue sky of bondage.

 

on a road whose name sounds like calamity

or song, gravity’s fall. Here – we both marvel at

 

our body’s work,

our skin without

our country’s marks,

 

brown bodies moving, through the Emerald

Isle’s soft, grey fog, unquestioned,

unboxed by America’s Black. I return to DC,

 

our city feeling unmasked, standing

in front of a mirror wondering

what else I have not seen.

 
 

*italics are from a Frederick Douglass speech detailing his visit to Ireland