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Seek
Solution
Need
Restitution
When will
These people
Marked by
Color
And known
By grace
Have a voice
That isn’t only
A chorus
Ciel Jan 2019
The coils on your head are the crowns
that were ripped from your ancestors' head.
The melanin in your skin is the reminder
of how the sun loved you when no one else would.
The stripes on your hips
are the representation of your growth.
The scars on your skin
are the proof that you won those battles.
So don't you dare be ashamed of them.
They make you who you are,
and you should be proud of it.
i still dream about my lover
crossing 7 rivers on her old boat,

rowing ripples of sorrow,
formed by droplets of tears

that moon-walked down her cheeks,
like silver lines in dark clouds

running like water fall, down a hill,
falling with deep sighs, with each clock tick

every drop into the river sings a song
as she rows along:

'take me deeper than my fears/
do not taste like my tears/
fare me well to yonder shores/
do not draw me to his voice'

too late

there were days of sunshine and plenty,
when the wind was art and poetry,
how much of him was loved?

there were days when rain was heavy,
when affection was your vanity,
how much of him was loved?

now, by untamed naivety
and itchy ears of the gullible laity,
you laid off, like Jonah,
the plot of your journal,

tell me,
how far are you from where he drowned?
not long, yet you miss him sore?

for along you row,
deep he sank and swam,
calling and pleading and hoping
you'd, for past's sake, heed

but your sadness waved back,
like stray dogs wave tails,
you couldn't, again bark,
when you met your fears,

not so long a time,
'time is the balm'
you claimed, but look, dear dame,
who's got no healing

i still dream about my lover
crossing 7 rivers on her old boat,

on lonely nights of cold
and faint moon lightning

her voice floating in the wind
that swishes west to east,

while an interlude of distant thunder,
rumble in low solemn tones
the song she left unsung:

'take me deeper than my fears/
do not taste like my tears/
fare me well to yonder shores/
do not draw me to his voice'
Thank you for being love when my soul craved it most.
Thank you for being refuge when I needed peace.
You are my favorite melody
A song I have yet to sing
tempest Aug 2018
little black girl

whenever I see a little black girl, I can't help but stare
and wonder

when is the day she'll begin to hate her hair, her personal garden, her roots?

when will her mother hold her soft cheeks in her tired hands as she weeps, for the kids at school told her to go back to Africa?

when is the day she'll purchase the creamy crack, destroying her roots but believing she shouldn't go back?

when is the day her mind will succumb to the beautiful golden locks of rapunzel or the heat kissed hair of our own idols?

when is the day she'll stare in the mirror and think: i hate my blackness?

i ask not if there will be those days, but when

too many of us black women can relate
we've been taught not to love, only to hate
our garden, our history, our personal roots
afros are bad, being a ****** is not cute

if given the opportunity, will we stand together and rise?
will we tell little black girls their hair is not their demise?

My worth is not measured on what grows from my head
Your worth isn't lost if a white boy leaves you on read
our worth is embedded in our ancestors' sacrifice
love your hair and embrace this life
Tuffy Mutombo Aug 2018
Nubian Queen
Kissed by the sun
Loved by the moon
Brenda Mukisa Aug 2018
With all the empty promises
It all started at home
The backbone of society they said....
Instead of it being strong and providing a safe place for me to land
It gave me a broken disfunctional one.
Children beaten everyday endlessly for even the smallest things.
They insisted that an African child understood from their behind.
Then polygamy came in
Mama so angry at the second woman forgot to love me too
Packing her bags in the name of saving her heart
She left mine to be abused daily by the other woman

School was supposed to be my escape
It only came with too many canes
Teachers who threatened not to give you marks unless you slept with them
Children who bullied you for being poor or not beautiful enough
So many times I wanted to run
But I knew that without an education you are no body

I thought adulthood was going to be my paradise
My government however is filled with corrupt and selfish leaders
Taxes every where every day it's all you practically work for
Jobs are hard to find unless you are connected to some one on the inside by blood, or sleeping with them.
My landlord keeps banging on my door angrily
I've lied to him so much he says
But my job pays 200k , I use 100k on transport, over 50k goes to taxes and I'm left with 50k to do every other thing.

I love the beautiful scenery and weather..... but apart from that.....
My continent is killing me.
Brenda Mukisa Jun 2018
Her mother dies and she feels lost.
She had never had it so easy.... but always tried.
Early mornings of house work before school.
Late weekends from washing piles of cloths.
Running into class late because she had to help mama.
She didnt feel bad... or sorry for herself.
She knew mama did not do it as a punishment.
So she grew from skinny to skinny...
Healthy skin....tender bones.
In holidays she dug.
Watching the morning sun drain her energy.
Yet her *** persisted...
It was never a punishment.

Mama loves me, In her own way.... she insisted.

Aunty needs you to live with her.
Mama says one day.
Her life changes.... big houses, big cities, big neighborhoods.
We made it mama, she says over the phone...
Be good and read hard.... mama says.
Believe in God and read hard.... Aunty reminds her.
Years of love, peace and joy...
Aunty dies.

It will be well Mama insists.
Years go by... sadness slips through....
Step mummy is harsh... step mummy denies her food...
throws her out over and over....
Abuses her emotionally and verbally...
tries committing suicide for the first time....
dad does nothing..... daddy loves step mummy more....

African child.... sad, broken , lonely..... hungry.
Hold on..... dont let go.
Another day, another struggle.
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