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I found this old poem while I was cleaning my house. I wrote it a few years ago but realy dug it as I read it and reintroduced myself to it recentlt.

 

 

I make no apologies for being the way God made me

 

I make no apologies for looking just like my mom,

both my grandmas

and all my loved ones

I am BLACK and I am comely,

So says the Rose of Sharon

God has looked upon me and BLESSED me

with BLACK…down to my soul

my bloodline runs thick with secrets/

stories untold

One could only imagine

the perils of that life/

loved ones bought

and others sold

eyes told truths

that mouths were forbidden to tell

and somehow,

we pushed on…

right through that white man’s hell

Imagine that/

she’s young, enslaved, and black

and she knows she comes from greatness

despite the seeping wounds across her back

forced to divert her eyes

and shuffle her regal stride

she hides her black pride deep inside

tucked away so deep,

her divine beauty remains as secret

as the tears she’s not allowed to cry

She is one of many

who carries the key of life/

dark as the tents of Kedar/

and as intriguing as the southern air at first light

self love is her strength,

truly divine,

so precious, it was,

even massa couldn’t break it/

every time he forced his way inside

and through all the pain,

making her way through the southern pits of hell/

she was blessed with new life,

in which God’s blessing would dwell

And, it is in the midst of agony, blood, and tears

that new strength sprang forth

amidst sociological fears/

kissed by the influence and strength

of God’s first

I am among the generations of those

whose skin tells the history

of Black America’s birth

~fin~

Author's Note

This is an old poem, but what do you think?