some mornings, after prayer,
my mind wanders down to the darkness
of the lower decks, to women
packed in like dry goods upon a shelf
hardly room to stretch their legs, their arms.
I feel them there in the discomfort of womanhood—
moon phases passing through their bodies
during the long ship’s journey
or pregnancy filling their wombs—
abdominal muscles separating.
I have to pull myself away from sisters
who groan and cry for the unknown fate they face.
Today, I’m going to enjoy the freedom
that’s mine in remembrance of women
in the lower decks
who could only imagine the luxury
of ample interior space.
I’m going to eat a hearty meal for them.
I’m going to read because they could not.
I’m going to write this because I can.
Ellen June Wright consulted on guides for three PBS poetry series. Her work was selected as The Missouri Review’s Poem of the Week in June 2021, and she is a Cave Canem and Hurston/Wright alumna. She also received 2021 and 2022 Pushcart Prize nominations.
