Driving Past Eatonville

Eatonville, Florida was the first city all-black city in America. This poem speaks about my passing sense of guilt as I drive by the town. Sometimes I don't want to remember history.

Driving past Eatonville
Where my ancestors sleep.
Cold and quiet
In a darkened keep.

Driving past Eatonville
I’ve never stopped to say,
Thank you to my kin folk
For how they found a way.

I imagine what they looked like.
How they acted.
What they said.

I sometimes hear their whispers
As I lay down in bed.

Do you remember us?
Do you understand?
We are who made you.
I am, because of them.

And I feel a shot of guilt
Settle in my heart.
Driving past Eatonville
I know that I won’t stop.