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Titulo

A Collection of Poems on the Beauty of the Black Experience

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by Krystal Roberts

DustMight

There was a face in the dust.
I think I’m going crazy.
But I saw it.
It wasn’t smiling.
It wasn’t frowning.
It was just there.
Accepted its fate as just something to be.
But I saw it.
I saw it for what it was.
A man.
A Woman.
A People.
Whose journey has to pick up whenever
Someone deems it unclean.
Whitewash the neighborhoods.
Clean off the table.
Only one group can eat.
But that dust.
It gathers.
While They eat.
He gathers.
Himself.
I saw a face in the dust.
And it looked like mine.
Footprints in the sand.
We keep moving.
But..we always leave roots.
So even after we are long gone.
We are still cracking your pavement.
These dust free neighborhoods.
Ain’t for me.

Breaking Freedom Haiku

We are our own roots.
We will crack every damn.
Foundation you lay.


Black Girl Magic Haiku

I be listening
The ansisters speak to me.
They call me Magic.


Resistance.

Anger so tangible
She made it human
The magical expressions of God herself.
We are the bows that God threw.
Bullets bounce to the beat.
Knuck if you buck is our speak.
Our freedom is showing.
Careful.
We dance through every pain.
Every song is our anthem
Until we pledge to ourselves.
Allegiance to the black bodies.
So filled with lightning
It's a shock, but you're blinded
By our compassion.
Our Grace...we will leave at the altar. This time.
The people will fly again.
You will no longer tread on our wings.
I will never understand
How freedom threatens you.
But I guess
If my freedom relied
On the oppression of others.
I would be scared too.

Africa Talks to herself

I've felt the blood of my children.

I feel their bodies crying

Whenever that whip

Kissed their skin

Like the sun did

And I felt their pain.

And all I wanted to do

Was hold you.

I would beg the lord to

Bury you within me

So you would feel

Just how much
I loved you
So you would feel loved at all
I wish I could show you

What you are destined to be

Once free.

Trapped and strapped

And tied up. 

They used those trees 
Against you.

Unknowingly

they turned my children into seeds
they do not know
How you rise.

How you are destined to grow

From the soils of black folk. 

They took you away 

But I still feel you.

I always will.


Perhaps more than one could imagine.

I dream of home

If the Trees could talk.

Blood leaks from my leaves

I am a witness
I watch them leave

As death falls upon

My new limb.

Smiles on their faces

Whilst I am burdened
This weight breaks my bough.

This sorrow rocks me
To my roots.

Pale faces watch me
In the moonlight.

As I stare back at them.

I will never forget this sorrow

I will never forget the sparrow.

The owls questioning 
The nature of these beasts. 

Blood leaks from my leaves

To my roots.
And we are connected.

The forest never forgets.


Hey Black Girl

Hey Black Girl.
As bright as the sun
As dark as the night.
And out of that night.
We are unconquerable.
Right?
We gon be alright.
We. Me. You. Us.
The sleepless nights,
The endless fights.
Or simple rights.
We gon be alright.
The strength of a black woman.
Equal to a thousand years of wait.
For a change to come.
Carrying that weight.
Unbowed. Unbroken.
Breaking these chains.
Break free Black Girl.
Save me

Krystal Roberts is a 26-year-old Georgia Girl. She believes HBCU Bands are gifts from the Melanin Based Gods. South Carolina State over everything.

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