Juneteenth Rising

By Naima Yetunde Hammonds

We gathered, not just in celebration,

But in sacred remembering—

of chains unfastened,

of stories carried in the marrow,

of songs still humming in our veins.

The soil knows the truth—

how it held our footsteps heavy with labor,

then danced with us barefoot

when the word finally came

two and a half years too late.

Galveston winds whispered freedom,

but freedom is not a whisper—

it’s a shout, a march,

a mother braiding history into her child’s hair

as she sings about survival

like it’s a praise song.

On this day, we do not forget.

We bloom.

We rise in red, in rhythm,

in remembrance of what was taken

and what we reclaim

with every drumbeat, every stride,

every hand joined in jubilee.

This is not just a moment.

It’s a movement.

A mosaic of ancestors

echoing through us,

as we build the tomorrow

they dreamed beneath cotton skies.