Black tears
Sometimes being black means we should hold back our tears.
Fight our fears.
Every time showing the power our melanin contains.
Sometimes I wonder were black tears go.
Maybe they go to our hearts.
Maybe there is a Gardner collecting black tears.
Using them to grow a flower bed.
Take this rose.
It was watered by the first time someone said.
That was good.
For someone like you.
Translation.
For a black person.
That was intelligent.
For someone like you.
Translation.
For a black person.
For someone like you.
Is another way of saying you have reached your ceiling.
You do not have the right privilege.
I mean white privilege.
To be here.
The rose knows its beauty and power.
It flaunts it proudly.
Blackness is taking pain and turning to something beautiful.
Take this Lupine.
Watered by watching T.V and struggling to see black faces.
When shown black faces are intertwined with a crime.
Rarely praised.
The lupine grows in the desert.
Yet they do not camouflage themselves.
They come of large.
Deep purple feed by the power and depth of their roots.
Deep pride feed by the power and depth of our ancestors.
Black is unashamed.
Black is never whitewashed.
Blackness is taking pain and turning to something beautiful.
If you ever wondered why melanin never stops fighting.
We have a blooming flower bed.
That keeps our hearts beating.
Even when the rest of the body feels like dying.
because blackness is taking pain and turning to something beautiful.