You Are Heard

Why is it that most of what I’ve “learned” about black people, involved their death and demise.

Where’s the classes talking about the Victories and Celebration of Blackness?

The success and discoveries of black people

The strength and perseverance of black people

I know it’s out there

Why haven’t I found it?

Why isn’t it offered in my area?

Why do I have to be the change I wanna see

Why must I bear the weight or seeking my identity

Why do I need to search and dig through the articles and history books to find facts

Why

Then I just have to sit in a pool of sentences and swim

Drown

Tread

Live in pools of sentences

And stand up and see what’s stuck

What I can take with me

And what I can let wash over me

But I had to find the pool

I had to decide if it was okay to dive in

Idk who created this pool

Idk who’s sentenced these are

But they’re what I have

They’re all I can look to.

Till I create my own pools

With my own waves

1Samuel 25

Do what is right

Trust God and do the things your suppose to do

Everyone will be rewarded for their Deeds

Everyone will be rewarded for their Dedication

Do not lose sight of what is right

Do not bend if you know what is right

Good comes to those who don’t expect it

Good comes when Good is given

Surely

Goodness and mercy shall follow us

All the days of our lives

And we shall dwell in the presence of the Lord

Forever

Amen.

visuals ^.^

I dream about being a mom more then anything else

I’ve dreamed about my family more then my career my house, my card, the dog.

I’ve dreamed of copious amounts of children

And excited that I was their mom

All just bursting with excitement when I hugs them kissed them

I want to be the one they run to when they cry

I want to tell them it’s okay to cry and understand how to make it better

I want to be the one they call mom

I want to be their provider

Their confidant

I want years down the road for them to call and apologize for yelling me when they were 13 because now they see that I’m right

I want to create children who know how to love

Who love themselves

Who can feel so empowered to change the world.

I want to be a mother to change

I want to be a mother to droppings of love

I want to kiss baby toes

I want to cry at evey graduation and wedding

I want to cheer them on at games

And edit papers

I want to be a mother so bad

But who am I now

And who will I be for them to be proud of

Who will I be before I can be in a position to be a mother

And who’s the father???

Who’s dad because he’s just as important in this scenario

But back to the point

I want to be a mom more then anything

Can’t tell me this ain’t love

For the white person who wants to know how to be my friend

by Pat Parker

The first thing you do is to forget that i’m Black.

Second, you must never forget that i’m Black.

You should be able to dig Aretha,

but don’t play her every time i come over.

And if you decide to play Beethoven – don’t tell me

his life story. They made us take music appreciation too.

Eat soul food if you like it,

but don’t expect me to locate your restaurants

or cook it for you.

And if some Black person insults you,

mugs you, rapes your sister, rapes you,

rips your house, or is just being an ass –

please, do not apologize to me

for wanting to do them bodily harm.

It makes me wonder if you’re foolish.

And even if you really believe Blacks are better lovers than

whites – don’t tell me. I start thinking of charging stud fees.

In other words – if you really want to be my friend – don’t

make a labor of it. I’m lazy.

Remember. 🤨🤨🖤🖤

For the entire month of April aka Black Women’s Poetry and Prose month. I’m sharing the work of women who have healed my heart, nurtured my mind and fed my spirit with their words. I have to admit that even as a voracious reader it took me a minute to understand and feel the purpose and passion of poetry. Often I found it confusing and underwhelming. I wanted characters, story, plot, but then I dug deeper and read more and more, I learned to treasure it for the art that it is, poetry is a moment in time, it’s a feeling, a mood, it’s deep, it’s playful, it’s memoir and commentary, it’s so many things at once, it’s patois, creole, slang, it’s protest, its prayer, it’s soul, it is NOT a luxury, there are no rules, it’s an excellent vehicle of expressing a singular idea, a method for causing controversy and tectonic shifts, it’s slick talking goodness and Black women reign supreme.

More to come…….

A family

Asthetic

Ft.

A photobomb

Joseph Acquaye

Model: Alfreda Amponsah New York Photographed by Me

To Me

From Me

Love You

Love Me

Happy Valentines Day