Girl Scout Headquarters
 mixed with colonial wealth
 (built on the slaves’ backs)
 

sometimes beauty’s marred
 history’s hard to swallow
 amid perfect squares
 

yet we walk through it
 splashing, playing giant chess,
 our steps going on
 

pieces of our past
 even when they’re earned with blood
 mark a clear future:
 
 we can absorb this,
 take pics, eat gator, and grin,
 hoping we’ve moved on
 
 (though the shadows know
 of King Cotton, oppressed girls,
 Sherman’s burning march)
 

we can’t have it all
 the vacation, family… peace
 without the whole truth
 

we can just love them
 hope they never see the dark
 (only the beauty)