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Writer's picturecamillesuzannecamp

Quiet Phantoms



By Aidan Romo


In the bustling, colorful night,

This city’s energy rings deaf

To me. I’m kept awake by a

Different progress from a land

Made different from an older

Ignorance. They, ghosts of Tulsa,

Faintly wail the injustice of

That day. I smell the remnants of

Their homes and lives, left as ash

Lost to the wind. As they rot away,

Stripped of freedom by little more

Than blind fear, their anguish lingers.

By the same terror, our trial to

Forget and race on is failing.

They are still here, haunting me. They

Don’t wish for their pain to remain

A secret kept among us. So,

Until we stop, until more dare

To hear them, the quiet haunting

Persists.

 

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