Joey's Poetry

Tamar’s Story

By Joey Salafia

Cold, Wet.

Alone, Afraid.

Stolen.

shackles bite into not just the skin

but the soul as well.

People stacked on people

like shipping containers on a cargo ship.

A new home

Longing, hoping, waiting.

If only my words could have been the sword that protected her

Instead I hope to protect her legacy.

I strive to force people to remember her,

to see her not as an enslaved woman but as a cook, a weaver, a mother just like yours.

Now imagine your mother, bound, forced to work until her body grew too old and frail to continue.

Imagine the sorrow, the pain,

But also imagine the bonds she formed, the people she held dear until the light left her eyes.

She fought for her freedom and won.

Remember her for who she is not what she was.

Joey's Statement

I wrote this poem to tell the story of Tamar. I end my poem with the line “Remember her for who she is not what she was.” I wrote this line so that my point is really driven home. I want people to remember her as a mother, a friend and a daughter, not as an enslaved woman. I want the story of Tamar and all the other enslaved people to be told to everyone, because their stories are ones worth listening to.