‘Dark as the midnight hour I’m bright as the morning sun’
but under the moonlight would you look at me the same?
Divided into tribes
The closest hue to Willie were tendered to more
Is darkness always deemed as filth?
The world drowned with white paint
If I were to say this in French
would you pay more attention?
Would you seek out who owns this voice?
‘Keep ya head up’
Don’t let lynch taint your eyes
His ways sets us back 100 years
For you and I are more equal
Than your eyes could ever explain
Ears drowning in ignorance,
I thank my mother for covering my eyes
It be your own kind pulling you into the storm
Whirling your mind to obliviousness
Sprinkles of doubt
And lightning of arrogance
Ask yourself did god create us
to divide ourselves into hue
I ask myself this question timelessly
The worlds constant desire
Is the
Answers
Black daffodil
Rich in pigment
Caressed by the sun
Disconnected early from its root
Petals plucked one by one
The sun rises
The sun sets
The petals wrinkle up but the pigment remains
Meaningful exteriors grasped so tight
The blue branch so bright and thick
It runs so deep the tree is
Long
Long
Away
A flower that blossoms on its own
Guide its own rising
But repeatedly trampled on
Needs no permission
Its beauty is not only their hue
But
Their
Inner being
But
Their
Existence casted a shadow upon
Like old ruins that no one pays mind to
That no one pays any
Mind
To.
If I were to say this in French
would you pay more attention?
Would you seek out who owns this voice?
Author Bio:
Naima has just completed a degree in English and Creative Writing at Newman University, Birmingham, UK.
'We have to talk about liberating minds as well as liberating society' Angela Y. Davis.
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