If you come as softly
As the wind within the trees
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.

If you come as lightly
As threading dew
I will take you gladly
Nor ask more of you.

You may sit beside me
Silent as a breath
Only those who stay dead
Shall remember death.

And if you come I will be silent
Nor speak harsh words to you.
I will not ask you why now.
Or how, or what you do.

We shall sit here, softly
Beneath two different years
And the rich between us
Shall drink our tears.

Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.

They move into condos
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.
Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right
they ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plant
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.

Take the church money out
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.

Folks write about me.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.

My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.

Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
Look at my face -- dark as the night --  
Yet shining like the sun with love's true light.
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free.
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I am the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave --  
Children sold away from me, I'm husband sold, too.
No safety , no love, no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.

Now, through my children, young and free,
I realized the blessing deed to me.
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.
I had nothing, back there in the night.
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done:
I had to keep on! No stopping for me --  
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast -- the ***** mother.
I had only hope then , but now through you,
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow --  
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life --  
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs --  
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the ***** Mother.

That Justice is a blind goddess
Is a thing to which we black are wise:
Her bandage hides two festering sores
That once perhaps were eyes.

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

I think I’m ready for you.
I’ve spent years dissecting the language of love so we can finally understand each other.

I’ve studied love like it was a Final, and I’ve done the practicals, aced it and now I know that I’m ready for you.

You see, I’ve spent my entire life being surrounded by everything that could possibly make me more fluent speaking hate than love. I’ve learned that The language of love consists of sub-languages like forgiveness.

I’ve learned to forgive the deepest pains, and endured the deepest heartbreaks that .... made me question if I’m ready to love you.

I’ve developed a clingy, selfish love for you. It’s a thing of, “If I can’t have you, no else would be worthy to” type of love. I feel entitled to your love.

I feel that Life has taught me lessons that are specifically to learn to love you with every waking day. I’ve learned to already love you like I love the dawn of a new day.

I love you unconditionally, frequently, messy, untamed but so refreshing. I love you widely and wildly, you’re the forest of my soul, and your waters run through the veins of my soul, palpitating streams of love in and out of this heart that was designed to perfectly, love you.

I love you like God has intended me to. I love you like God sat with me while making you so I know what your fears and insecurities are, and He gave me the responsibility to love you like perfection was made possible in that moment, when He made you.

I love you impossibly. I love you so much that it exceeds your expectations and instead meeting you half way, I meet you at the end. I meet you at the end of the race, having won you over by overcoming the hurt and the hate, just to find you, the love of my life.

Dear Future Wife
I’ve loved you before, and I’ll love you after.

I remember when the world stopped every time she looked in my direction. I remember how rainbows used to sparkle in her eyes after showers of rain.

I remember how the sun and her skin were always in conversations and how her giggles were rays of sunlight.

I remember how her voice echoed into the silence, and how beauty and perfection would respond to the sound of familiarity. I remember how her hands touched my skin, yet touched my heart, all at once.

I remember how she would wear love over her imperfections because real is always better than insecurities, she had no business trying to make up what she never had to, to start with.

She’s beautiful. She is beautifully made and she has no competition because how does one begin to judge what they don’t understand and could never fathom, she’s raw perfection wrapped in standards set by imperfect being, and her being herself managed to do it so well that it may **** well be the closest thing that one would ever encounter that embodies the very essence of perfection!

I remember how the “I love you too” sounded because what a privilege it was to say “I love you” first to she that is the epitome of what some may call an impossibility.

I remember her like she was the part of me I longed for, and she was more than I could handle, and even so, I handled her with care, she’s still fragile, but I could never drop her, because perfection and fragility never go together, but you would never know because you’ve never known her the way I do.

I remember.

My greatest fear is my greatest regret. Living in every other moment, except my own. I fear losing out on me while concentrating on what doesn’t concern me, because I’ve become so good at giving so much of me that when I have me all to myself, I don’t know what to do with me.

Every waking day is dedicated to making some one else’s day, and my day doesn’t matter because yours comes first. I come last, take that how you want but at the end the day, the good guys always finish last, but we also finish right, next to perfection laced with no regret, see I know this because I was well acquainted with making your day, everyday without fail, and now I fail to see what I would do without you, because You revolves around me like the sun to the earth, and even though you keep rotating, so I reach every side of you, it seems like I never appealed to the side that mattered

It is said that the sun will never burn out but today for the first time in a long time I’m giving the cold shoulder...