Mother Earth and I
We had a talk And between her and I, we found out something. And what we found out was that Mother Earth and I We are the same. ~ Today, I sat still long enough to see the earth sink into the ground and rise again. It was moving. It was breathing. It was changing. ~ You ever saw a tree in the ghetto? It's carrying on, it's wood may be cracked and bark be rugged and its color still vibrant and leaves still green but present are many holes, it's branches cloaked with poison ivy, but skin still strong, long, and standing mighty tall. If you ever see a tree in the ghetto, Know thar It's still carrying on, But it's dying every day, being killed by everything it stands alive for, Just like black girls are. ~ My body is a being. Like mother earth, I have a core, a heart to encompass it, a surface that can be explored, But like this Earth, it can be taken without consent. Black woman is Dark Matter, still full of secrets not yet revealed, understood and fully conquered but still Black Black and Breaking Black and Broken Broken into Cracks Cracks like Scars And they never leave. ~ Like, mountains and valleys creviced are my hips, touch inseparable. I feel her everyday when I walk I feel her strength, her pain, her love and when a part of me dies like: 7 year old Sherrice Iverson 7 year old Aiyana Stanley-Jones 10 year old Ashawnty Davis 16 year old Denise Harris 17 year old Arnesha Bowers 19 year old LaVena Johnson 21 year old Kendra James 22 year old Kasandra Perkins 22 year old Tiarah Poyau 23 year old Korryn Gaines 24 year old Noca Henry 26 year old Tarika Wilson 27 year old Mary Spears 28 year old Sandra Bland 29 year old Shereese Francis 29 year old Janese Talton-Jackson 35 year old Alesia Thomas 37 year old Tanisha Anderson I realize I am already an ocean of my own tears. My planet is a black woman, didn’t you hear? ~ I must be nurtured like nature like a mother’s love so that when it grows, it changes and when it dies, it asks to be born again. Like the seasons, the leaves, they fall in the fall, they die and decay in the winter. They sprout in the spring and they bloom in the summer. Then the cycle repeats. I like to believe that when I was born, someone somewhere began crying. Because they knew that this world would try to break me and make me think that I am incapable of being loved. But Black girl be free, walk with your head down looking at your knee, or walk with your head to the sky and remember you are godly. It don't matter to me, being happy with yourself is key, so black girl be free, and watch the world follow your lead, forgetfully.
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