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Mia J May 4
Her tears first started after she bit an apple.
The instructions were to not eat from the Tree of Knowledge.
She was deceived by a lurker in the grass and flipped the Earth on its head.
As she left the beautiful green garden, her tears sunk into the grasses giving it and everything else life.
Her tears poured out like a tsunami when her son murdered his brother over envy.
Her ears and eyes cried when she heard the screams of her daughters bearing new life.
No one cared about her tears as she was forced away from her home.
Nobody protected her from hands that didn’t belong near her body.
She and her sisters flooded the oceans and seas with salty tears from their swelled-up eyes.
She was never silent with her crying, but no one ever heard her.
Her body as well as those of her children were consciously buried at sea to avoid the atrocities that awaited them in the New World.
Her disobedience caused mankind to fall, but her children were innocent.
Initially.
But has she not cried enough?
Are her tears not an acceptable display of how sorry she is?
The Earth continues to be fertilized by her tears and she’ll never stop giving it life.
Her sons and daughters hate each other and are hated by individuals who are just like them.
She and her sisters left enough tears at their children’s graves to bring them back to life.
Her tears are scattered all over this Earth and yet she’s still crying for all of her children.
Won’t they just learn from their mother’s mistake so they won’t inherit her heavy heart and swollen eyes?

-Mia J
10-21-2020

© 2020 Mia J
This poem was composed in 2020
Bolaji Temilola Apr 2024
Seen in the crowd,and got infatuated with her
Chatted her up, thinking she should be someone else
But alas,she is proud of herself

Proud of her color
Proud of her hair so coarse and short
Looking tangled and curl
Proud of her lean loving body looking like a model

She is so proud to be a woman,a black woman
No need to be artificial.
She so proud to be black and shine
She is a great mother of one by choice
And she is proud with her life.

Black or white,same red blood is running the vein
Black or white same water we drink
I am black,bold and beautiful
I am black and pretty 😍
Proud to be black
Tashea Young Sep 2019
As she is Feeling worthy,
She takes the journey
With Eyes wide shut; in truth ever so blindly
Embracing her spirituality Divinely

She Rises As Peek of the Day At High Noon
She’s In tune
Like the Sun in rotation to the 28 phases of the moon
She’s in tune as summer in the month of June
Just as a flower in its fullest bloom
She’s in tune
As the skin embracing the molecules of perfume
She’s in tune
Just as a baby in the mother’s Womb
Just waiting to be born soon
She’s uses Art of Divination
Shes sees Life/God in all of Creation
She self heals through crystals, spiritual baths and mediation
Her Aura is that of roses, poetry, and galaxies
She pulls one in with her defiant rules of gravity
Draws one closer with her celestial cavity
She’s cosmic candy
Some may say They call her the Milky Way Because around her even the stars feel safe enough to come out and play
She’s a whole vibe,  the rhythm of reggae
She’s life one breathes into their airway
She’s paradise’s secret highway
She’s Cosmic Candy
She’s As beautiful as watching the chaotic grace of a Star burst  to me
Her spirit is wild and free as the unknown depths of the sea
Speaking aesthetically,
she is truth So heavenly
She is Cosmic Candy
Mercedes Sep 2018
hue
we are the people
of contrast.
storm in the cloud.
glory in the blood.
joy despite fury.
peace in the flowerbeds.
Indigo Morrison Jul 2018
My body is the makeup of both hard and softness
The reds, browns, golds...
The light and darkness of all my ancestors.
Some men have lost themselves here,
Some men have found themselves here
Most women stand stronger next to this.

I am both war grounds and silent cities.
I am both girl trying not to drown in all this sadness, all this loss...
And woman trying not to drown in all this sadness, all this loss.
I am your blonde roast that starts a riot in you first thing in the morning
And your dark roast that goes down smooth, leaving you to want for a little more...

I am both the scab healing over bruised skin
And the area surrounding it.
I am both strong legs and soft lips
...Brown skin deep enough to hide flaws still.

I am the softness in light...
And the softness of honey, but still thick enough to swim in.
I am the hardness of knees on ground, praying to the man or woman who has made me both hard and soft.

I am the woman who cannot forget enough to truly forgive,
But human enough to help you if the light goes out.
I am consistent no's and the yes that matters,
I am shattered glass and spilled milk.

This skin mirrors both the earth and everything you give the universe on a new moon .
I am both woman dancing in nothing, but a skirt to the rhythm of the ocean ...
And the ocean kissing the shore wishing to be as free as that woman.

Sometimes this mouth...
Sometimes my words bite,
Creating harsh weather,
But I am tired of making storms of people, storms of my relations.

I am both soft belly and strong back.
Something you can count on,
A woman you can be sure of.
You can bet on me,
You can stand near me,
You can fall in my presence.
...You can be both hard and soft with me.
Indigo Morrison May 2018
I am not woman still healing
from scars,
from wars,
from lives,
I’m not yet ready to talk about.

I am not beautiful nor broken
I am not a poet trying to stitch together my mind in a way that makes sense...

I am not a doctor
I am not birthed as healer,
As nurturer
I am not the light,
The darkness.

I am not black woman who leads
Black woman who dances for hearts that are too afraid to beat a little unruly
I am not at all dripping lonely
Or mimicking the sun when morning comes again
I am not both enamored by life and saddened by it

I am not the lighthouse
The storm
The final destination

I am not everything you’ve ever wanted
I am not the woman who got away
I am not what you stole from you.
I am not waiting to be whole here.
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