Black Gold

I am Black Gold

They try to crack the ridges

And ends of my being

but my armor is impermeable.

They try to sing my freedom songs

And buy my history.

I am Black Gold

My calloused memory

Retains the path of my ancestors

Whipped and raped

Forced to grovel

But continuing to rise.

I am Black Gold

They try to resist the flowers that bloom within me

Telling me there is no place for my beauty

Rejecting my roots

And defining my identities

While erasing my mother tongue.

I am Black Gold

They teach me to walk straight

To tilt my hat

To hide my colors

But to open my legs

And to always keep my mind shut.

I am Black Gold

Sold by my brothers

Who saw their reflections in the mirrors

But did not see the evil of their ways

Who prayed to a God of a color

That bore no resemblance to their own

I am Black Gold

I stand tall and break free

I have found my way home

In the belly of the Niger River

I found love in the blackness

And I have made peace with it all.

Along the lines of truth

And they keep telling me: my Black is beautiful.

As though this new revelation should surprise me.

Shock me, into

appreciating my existence, and to be grateful for my borrowed space.

and time.

How do they know I do not bow to my temple of blackness daily?

and pay homage often to the struggles whitened out in history texts?

They encourage me to accept my wide heavy hips and thick thighs.

They speak in weak tones of expression of inner beauty and imitations of color blindness,

Who are these that dictate what my reflections should sing?

Those who trap my stories in a box

Those who describe me as one thing.

One beautiful Black thing.

Why should i be defined, aligned and understood?

they teach me to know myself, while

always fearing i will recognize the lies behind their borrowed truths

and hand-woven sermons

Having produced an image of me that they find palatable and comfortable,

they clip my wings and demand i soar.

The Many Falling Queens

Young girl, I pray you see these vultures hovering over you.
They prey on innocence.
Taking blood when able.
How can you decipher their evils?
My young one, they will come bearing gifts
of perfumed prose,
that may seem heartfelt but is rather a memorized eulogy.
Silky phrases that plead the divergence of legs,
and the raising of hips.

Young girl, I pray you believe your worth.
Immeasurable and unquantifiable.
Young girl, I pray you learn to love the broken reflection.
Tender and complex.
Young girl, it might seem like you will never win,
in this game of greed and falling queens.
But know this
That the worst of the vultures,
that suck you dry, leaving you hollow and barren
They are birthed
out of you

The beauty of creation

Pulling him to her breast,
She realized what she feared was the newness.
The feeling that perhaps
This moment had never occurred before and so,
the burden of creating something completely new had been given to them:
these young reckless lovers.
Who knew nothing more than to give of themselves,
Hungry, not to conquer but to be conquered.
They reeked of passion,
blinding and burning.
But even in the midst of passion,
She found herself gasping and wondering if the burden was too heavy.
As she moulded her body alongside his,
would this be enough?
She realized what she feared was the newness.
The beauty of creation that lay in the sandy horizon
And the failure of never reaching it,
blanketed her naked statue.

Meeting the Dream Man

I met him in the dimly lit passage-way

between his fear of failure and his desire for power.

It was a different feeling, it pulled at me-

gripping my heart in such a frightening way.

Drawing me closer but leading me nowhere. 

Having come this far, how could I return?

At this point of neither paradise nor destruction.

I stood and called out to him.

But he seemed to disappear into the faraway depth-

that of imagination and the pursuit of purpose. 

 

The Human Fault

It is the gift of life that has been reduced to a curse by our feeble minds.

Searching for existence, we realize our utter inadequacies.

While born to walk on land, we pray to fly.

We bind our hopes and dreams to love, hoping that this will be fertile land to instill the growth we desire.

We toil unceasingly, never realizing the true simplicity of life itself.

It was beautiful before but we damned it in our hearts.

After the fire burnt the destruction i thought i saw the holy trinity rise above the ashes.