The Things They Carried: A Story of Lineage

His great-grandfather carried the weight of never being known by Mr. or Sir, only boy.

Carried the weight of a nation not ready to see a Black man carry the promises of its Declaration.

Once bore the weight of a cotton scale with the left side of his head,

red blood running.

His grandfather bore the weight of Southern poverty, generations in the making.

Carried the weight of burying his wife of fifty plus years.

One Friday evening finally felt the weight of bearing his own cross.

His father carried the weight of a father he had seen but never knew.

Bore the weight of traveling on a path he had seen no other man walk.

But he never bore the weight of fully expressing emotion, feelings,

the one thing not passed across generations.

And now, he carries the weight of them all

to the grave

freedom.