Black Silk Skin

The Goddess Mother Nature cradles her divine, rich soil, black baby. Touching its soft Vaseline Coca butter skin. Combing its cotton thick hair. Loving its essence of black rhythm and blues.

Baby boy… Baby girl.. your hair is like the trees of nature. Holding the roots of liquid bright plated gold and the chains, violence and love of black history.

Your voice of high vibrations, aid the words of a survivor.

Your body, your curves your shape.  Heals the depth trauma with tranquility.

Black woman who are you ?

Black man what are you? Black people who are we ?

Are we that stirring cooking Gumbo Pot with spices and herbs?

Are we that thanksgiving soul food with the embodiment of collard greens, cornbread, chicken, and baked potatoes with corn?

Are we the future of the generations that possess the ability of justice in our diamond sculpted hands?

We are inspiration for eternity. We are not the triggering gun of a criminal activity bullet.

We are the creation of gravity. We are not the destruction of black culture.

We are black culture.

We are the eraser to the back of an earring piece.

We are the lunch box of mommas Tupperware.

We are Black future.

Embrace it.