Anna Manigault weaves her baskets
from sweet grass and pine needles,
with hands gnarled and scarred.
Weaving and wrapping, weaving and wrapping
sitting next to the slave cabins
just outside the plantation gates.
She learned from her mother,
who learned from hers,
who was taught by hers
in one of those old cabins
near where Anna sits now.
Watching her hands
in the shadow of the slave's,
beauty added to utility.
No longer made for a purpose,
but an art form to decorate our walls
and ease our conscience.
Sweet grass and pine needles,
Anna Manigault weaves her baskets.
| you know this is very nicely done for what it is. just the capture of a moment. um.......yeah nothing to nitpick here, a very pleasant capture. very informative, and done with taste and good form.|
|| Posted on 2009-01-26 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ] |