by Ebony S. Johnson
They clawed their way out
Cecil soil still under their fingernails
Stretching to even out backaches and sorrow
Searching for a kind beginning
Packed bags and blighted memories
The whistling of the train ringing in their ears
Praying for fulfilled promises
Soft whispers that curl out the mouth
And dance to divinity
The mellifluous resonance only felt in spirit
The hum of hope
and uncertainty
The silent cry of motherless children
Grieving what is left behind
Comforted by faith
and each other
Optimism echoes in the soul
Melodies called out to angels and ancestors
The steady tremble of the engine
Synchronized with heartbeats
Trusting the unknown
Black faces glistening under the moon and city lights
Twinkling with excitement and wonder
Can this be home?
Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, Ebony S. Johnson has been a writer all of her life. Her creative endeavors led to regional NAACP awards as a teenager and public policy publications in college. With interests in wellness, spirituality, and liberation, Ebony utilizes writing to bring awareness, create new worlds and to heal. Her work has been published with the National Alliance for Mental Illness, Wellspringwords, Brown Sugar, and the Center for Black Literature’s Killens Review of Arts & Letters. Ebony hopes her art strikes a delicate balance between joyful and mystifying.
