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.