HER ROOTS 🌳 BY HUNYS W. & ZARIAH P.
As her cocoa butter skin beams in the sun's radiant light,
It’s covered by shady remarks darker than her melanated tone.
“Can I touch her hair? I've never seen anything like it before!”
No you can not, her hair is the glue that binds her to her progeny.
“Well, can’t I compare? My skin is nearly as dark as hers!”
But your tan glazed skin can never endure the darkness of her sun kissed complexion.
Dark like the soil, her brown stained flesh aligns so well, “they” seem to assume they are bonded together.
Maps embedded into the depths of her roots, her scalp grows & glows red.
Royalty follows her as she walks each step, thanking Mother Nature for her ebonized pigmentation,
But dissing Mother Nature because she never knew the discrimination,
The racism, the bigotry, the INTOLERANCE.
Words we could go on and on about how she's mistreated.
They turn to her and say “white people aren't even that privileged”
As if they aren’t already glorified for their existence everyday.
Ineradicable she continues to be, nothing seems to stop her,
Her hands run through the lush emerald green leaves,
She extends herself as she grows taller and taller,
Reaching for a way out, just to find a way in,
Only to be expelled each time,
How much higher does she reach?!
Envying her for her at most beauty, they marginalize her,
Distorted, disconnected, disfigured is her form.
They cut her down, and yet she grows again
She heals from the axes of their words that cut her deep,
Building herself up vigorously,
She becomes one with nature,
Her feet are the roots that ground her as she stands tall,
Her grace…is undeniable.
DREAMS BY LANGSTON HUGHES - PREFORMED BY LEXI S.
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
ANCESTRY BY GABRIELLE J.
Ancestry my tree
Branches battered and broken
Bruised but broad
Left in the shadows despised
But still destined to live to thrive
Although it's been pruned painted over picked at
Still in tact I can’t follow my history way back
But through my hair through stories through tales of sorrows and glories
I can piece together a story a history
A history scattered in mysteries from what’s remembered and retold
From my family who continues to inspire
From their personal stories that I aspire
I don’t think my history is boring
It’s a time for rejoice and morning
It brings us together and all of it
makes me better
To contribute to me
Is to live life
Adding to our tree
Sharing the same story making a new history
