An Ode To Black Women, a poem.
the Blood that runs through my veins,
runs through yours.
Not literally, but rather in a
metaphysical, systematical, psychological kind of way.
We go through things, we feel great pain,
having the burden of not only ourselves but of the anguish that comes from being the protectors of our culture, our men, and our children…
They ask us why we’re so angry,
They tell us to smile a little more,
to have a kinder tone,
to straighten our hair,
to cover our Black skin,
to not be so…..damn…Proud.
To “Lighten Up a Little”,
not knowing that without the weight of the world on our shoulders,
we are kindred loving spirits whose reputation is being narrated by Man,
the white man,
and sometimes…the black men we protect too.
In a dream of our own, we float and dance around in a field of sweet smelling roses,
hair touching the sky,
skin lit up by the rays of sunshine,
a reflection in the mirror of ourselves.
