She has heard for too long now
that her pores bleed the color of slave ships
that chains have been seen in her smile
that her skin shines like a beacon of shame
sprinkled amidst Mississippi cotton fields
her beauty sticks out
like a diamond in the ruff they notice her
she is only pretty for a dark skin girl
Who does she think she is?
being darker than a brown paper bag?
The truth is that she is the color of the Goddesses
a dark chocolate kiss
neatly wrapped in silk
want to touch her face
just to see if it’s real
just to see if it’ll melt underneath my fingertips
I’ll keep my hands to myself
don’t want to be the stone
responsible for the wrinkles in her skin
this delicate rose petal of a woman
reborn in the spring
don’t want my touch
to taint her gorgeous
where not even the bite of Winter
dares to diminish
Check this video out. Its the voice of a man who was a slave who reveals briefly his experience. Of course I had to find something like this, but I’m really passionate about reliving history at the foot of the elders. I’ve always loved listening to the elders speak about their experience picking cotton and sharecropping and all of that, which nurtured my decision to write more about black history.
Speaking of Slave Ships, has anyone ever wondered what happened to those ships? Why are there no authentic slave ships in museums? I’m not talking about the replicas. How did whole ships just disappear? Is it possible that the wood was used to make other things? It does after all hold a lot of energy. Blacks were also hung from trees, which is also wood. What do we call a thick Forrest? We call it the woods. Can there be a significance to this? Just trying to expand my understanding on the whole institution of slavery itself. It’s not just that blacks committed suicide, but could it also be that they were sacrificed as well? Not everyone jumped ship, some were murdered. Just a thought.
“We are walking Deuteronomy’s….with birthmarks that lead to scripture….and memories like the scenic route to Armageddon.”