Henrietta Lacks (under the El)
I saw her happy, brave, proud face
The young farmer in her good Sunday clothes. Dignity in her bearing.
Bearer of immortal cells, stolen by the overlords of a white science. It's dark and lonely there under the Oak Park El station tunnel.
Twisting strands of DNA, she is history now, a reclaimed narrative, story recognized and retold, like her immortal remains.
Hela Hela Hela Hela
You can't own her. Can't erase her.
She was here. She was more than her biological materials.
We remember. We remember.
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