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

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.

Strides like a giraffe yet sleek as the gazelle
She is not the colour of her skin
Nor is she the crown she chooses for her head
She is both the heart wrenching thunder
And the illuminating halcyon lightning
Accompanying the storm
She is the petrichor and the rainbow
She is the heart of Africa

Mama, what does it mean to be free?
To think and act on your own?
If they free our skin will they free our minds?
Will we learn to love and appreciate one another?
Will my bronze skin be beautiful?
Will men admire my ***** hair
Will they rather look at her pale skin in awe?
Can we be truly free or will it be an illusion?
Will we stand equal or forever inferior to colonizers?
If freedom walks in
Will we mourn our brothers or sing songs of freedom
Mourning is easy, we mourn daily
If we are to sing freedom songs
How will we sing songs we were never taught
If freedom doesn't walk in
Will we be slaves forever?
Mama, what does it mean to be free?

Andaye!
Full of promising words and empty of actions
Preaching water and living alcohol
Your lies are so fertile
Your truth so young
Your tongues is a convincing machine
You help us sing the sweet simple song
They avoid the dancing part
You teach us how to cook dinner
Then take us out so that cannot eat
Andaye you're  a liar.

I have seen God.
Her head raised high, poised and beautiful
Smooth skin that seems to control nature in her veins.
In her was history, the first, the genesis.
Her love is impartial, incomparable.

I have seen God
In different shades of earth and nature
Made of Protons, neutrons, melanin
She is root; the source of life
Life itself, the very beginning.

I have seen God
She would trade her life for her children
She’s an armour and life jacket
She is the source of life and peace.
She is more than an angel, she is a god.

I have seen God
She is black.