As the Martyrs Go Marching
A Poem by Maeve Sheridan
there are ghosts in this country,
I can see them today.
the science of cartography is limited but
the strike marks in the stone
tell the story of why the road ends
here, history is alive
over the icy Lackawanna
where piercing eyes follow the
not yet forgotten
I wonder if they will tell my story,
or if they will forget the time I spent
enveloped in entropy picking
at paint where it peels?
in memories buried alive just dreaming
of a softer earth longing for the forgotten
warmth of streetlights on the first night of autumn
the arc of history bends to nowhere.
and bows to the comfort of kings,
but there are ghosts in this country.
souls that struck
the stone on which that
house was built
I can see them today.
The arc of history ends where history is a lie.
where southern bells ring with a tone of victory,
as if they haven’t already lost, as if spirits aren’t
gathering in the empty streets, begging to be seen.
there are ghosts in this country,
more visible than ever.
So why won’t you look me in the eye?
Maeve is a young transgender woman living in South east Michigan. She is a full time water rights activist, and seeks through her art to uplift voices often left on the fringe.
